The Art of Healing
by jon3776
Summary: Harry Potter is a broken man after then end of Second Wizarding War when he accepts a teaching position in France. Can the love and faith of a student save a wizard who believes himself beyond hope? Post Hogwarts HarryGabrielle Delacour.
1. Default Chapter

The Art of Healing (1/)

By Phoenixgod2000

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters and I don't make money off of them. Please don't sue.

Special authors note: this story contains an inappropriate relationship between a teacher and a student. In real life this sort of romantic relationship, even a nonsexual one is not okay. Let me repeat that. It is not okay. Not okay for a male teacher and a female student or a female teacher and a male student. Both are equal violations of trust. This is a fictional story which should never be repeated in real life. However, this not a real life which makes everything okay. End of soapbox.

Second Authors note: I am very proud of this story. Please take the time to review it.

* * *

The first day of the fall term at Beauxbatons was a beautiful one. Bright sunshine banished whatever clouds threatened to gather in the morning and glinted off the flawless white stone of the building complex. Students moved about the grassy lawn or passed beneath the vine-covered lattice walkways in that slow languid fashion endemic to perfect days ruined by so something as mundane as classes. It was a day that symbolized the rebirth of the Wizarding world one year after Voldemort's defeat.

Gabrielle Delacour was bored.

Really, really, bored.

She absently tapped out a sharp song on the edge of her desk with diamond hard fingernails, her other hand entwined around a few strands of her long silvery hair. Sitting in the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom alongside the rest of her sixth year classmates, she waited impatiently for the new teacher to show up. Madam DuShae, the new head of Beauxbatons after Madam Maxine had been killed in the war, seemed to be quite excited about who she snared into teaching at Beauxbatons this year, but had flatly refused to announce the name at the feast. All she would say was that his credentials were without reproach and he was foreign. Gabrielle figured that it was a retired auror. Maybe a mutilated hero from the war who wanted to pass along whatever information he had gained in his years of service.

Tired of her hair twirling, Gabby unfurled a scroll she grabbed from her bag and with a charcoal quill began to draw. It would take her some time to finish the drawing but she could easily picture what it would look like when it was complete. It was one of her favorite memories, and she'd drawn it a thousand times, each one slightly different from the last. There was always something to add or change.

Gabrielle loved to draw and paint. Art was in her blood the same way action was in Bill's and wine making was in Fleur's. Her art had provided a solace in the dark days before her magic matured and she was fully able to tap into her powers as a witch. Such maturity came later for Veela than it did for purely human witches and she had spent a very long first year lagging behind her classmates. When everyone was making fun her, making her feel stupid, she had retreated into her canvasses.

Later, once her magical and faerie powers matured, she discovered that by combining her veela connection to emotion and her talent in the visual arts, she could elevate her skills to a new, nearly inhuman plateau. A true artistic prodigy, the fey witch was able to infuse her work with emotion in a way that muggle artists could not and few wizards would ever duplicate.

With swift, certain strokes the scene unfolded on the parchment. The first figures drawn were vague and indistinct, the impression of a crowd of people with singular focus on an event that was more important than they were. The figures that would be drawn next were far more detailed. Her sister, resplendent in a beautiful white dress would stand next to a handsome man several years older than her. He would wear his hair in a ponytail and cut quite a dashing figure in formal dress robes. With strokes that drew emotion from ink, Gabrielle saw clearly in her minds eye the look of love and adoration on Bills face and the answering look on her sister's. With the flourish of a truly great artist she added the twinkling eyes and great bearded figure of the man who had wed them, Albus Dumbledore. The last thing that would appear on the parchment was the rose-entwined archway they married under. The scene was so clear because it was one Gabrielle's most cherished memories. After all, her beloved sister's wedding to a good man deserved to be cherished. Gabrielle knew better than anyone alive how difficult it was for a part-veela woman to find real love.

Often, she despaired of ever finding it for herself.

Her reverie was disturbed by the loud echo of footsteps outside the classroom. It seemed that the mysterious new teacher had finally deigned to arrive, and only fifteen minutes late.

Her irritation with the new teacher disappeared when she saw who it was.

The teacher dropped a few scrolls onto the surface of the desk at the front of the class before moving directly in front of his new students. He hadn't spoken, yet commanded the class with nothing more than the sheer power of his presence.

He was not a tall man; at several inches shy of six feet he was barely taller than Gabrielle herself. Despite his youth, his black hair was dusted with silver, speaking of a hard life. His face had a chiseled, rugged handsomeness and a raised lightning bolt scar was centered over his forehead. His flat green eyes flickered around the room missing nothing, the rote movements of a person who no longer needed to be reminded to observe his surroundings. His body possessed tightly coiled lean strength wrapped in a black muggle tee-shirt, dark jeans, and black boots. A tattooed runic band was coiled around his right arm from wrist to elbow. Everything about the new teacher screamed power and danger.

"You all know who I am." Harry Potter began in flawless French.

Gabrielle's heart fluttered. She had carried a torch for Harry since meeting him at the Tri-Wizard tournament six years earlier. Later, he had been the one to teach her to meld her veela and artistic talents into a greater whole. He had even comforted her when her sister was kidnapped by Voldemort's forces during the war. He was the new teacher? Why here? He was a living legend, a walking myth; people would fall over themselves to get him to teach a seminar on defense, let alone a full class. Why would he come all the way to France? Two time Order of Merlin First Class recipient. First non-French person to win the L'ordre de Croix Dorée (the highest award in the French ministry) in one hundred and sixty five years. Winner of the United States Congressional Medal of Freedom. Destroyer of Voldemort. Slayer of the Dracula. Hero of the Battle for Hogwarts. Gryffindor's Assassin. There were probably even more honors and titles that she was totally unaware of. Harry Potter was quite possibly the most honored and respected Wizard on the planet.

And he was here.

Harry pointed his finger at a sixth year sitting in the front of the class. "You, what is your name?"

"Alexander Legrand, Professor. You can call me Alex if you'd like, sir." The student answered respectfully, very much in awe of his instructor.

"Mr. Legrand, if I wanted to kill a vampire, what would be the most effective spell to do so?"

The boy looked around as if to try and see the answer written on someone's face. "I and the rest of the class are waiting for the answer, Mr. Legrand." Surprising venom laced Harry's voice.

"I don't know, sir." Alex ventured hesitantly.

The young professor laughed in derision. Then in flash Harry raised his hand and shouted "_Solaris_." One of the runes on his arm flared and a golden ray pierced the unsuspecting student in the chest.

Panicking, Alexander threw himself away from the desk shouting and slapping his chest. He stopped when he realized he hadn't actually been injured.

Harry smiled bitterly. "A Sunlight spell that a good friend of mine invented. Harmless to humans and lethal to vampires. Unless you're keeping a certain blood drinking secret, you don't have anything to worry about." He looked around the room. "The spell creates a three meter ray that lasts as long as you can concentrate on it—which, since the spell is so tiring, isn't long. By the time this year is over you'll be able to keep this spell up for over a minute and hit anything you aim it at. For that matter, any spell that creates light in the ultraviolet spectrum such as the spell _Luminos Solarem _is also particularly effective, although the incantation is slightly longer, which can get you killed in a fight. The theory and wand movement are in your text…Well," he snapped, when no one moved, "Why aren't you writing anything down?" The sound of pens scraping on parchment filled the classroom.

Harry paced back and forth. "This is defense against the dark arts. This class isn't fun, and it isn't something you can sleep through or waste your time in. You aren't going to learn cheering charms or play transfiguration games. This class is about life and death, and if you don't do well in this class you could face consequences far worse than a failing grade."

* * *

Gabrielle was soaked in sweat by the end of class, and she was far from the only one. Harry had been merciless, drilling them endlessly with spells and conjurations designed to measure their current proficiency at DADA. With a no small amount of pride, the silver haired teenager noticed that she was one of the better students in practical Defense.

When the ending bell mercifully rang, most of the students filed out of the class rapidly, having no desire to stay with their famous teacher any longer than necessary. Gabrielle saw her friends waiting by the door, but she waved them on. Drawing a deep breath, she approached Harry, who was seated at his desk.

"Yes, Miss Delacour, can I help you with something?" Harry asked without looking up.

_Miss Delacour? When did I stop being Gabby?_

"I was very surprised to see that you were the new teacher that was so highly touted by the headmistress." Gabrielle began nervously. She played with a long strand of her silver hair and the faintest hint of rose tinged her cheeks. "I haven't seen you in a few years. You haven't made it to any of the Christmas's at the Burrow since your seventh year."

_The year you made me love you_

Harry looked up, his dull green eyes burning into Gabrielle. She was suddenly buffeted by emotions strong enough to nearly make her stagger. "I never found what I was looking for and I couldn't go home. This came up. Anything else?" He asked tightly.

Gabrielle studied Harry silently and closer up she noticed a number of things which disturbed her. His bloodshot eyes were lifeless and lacked the spark she remembered fondly from the past and were set into a slightly puffy face. Bags darkened his eyes and his hand shook with a slight tremor. She saw that his leanness was more than just the result of athletic strength. Veins and muscles were in such sharp relief that it was plain Harry wasn't eating as much as he should. Worst of all, to her sensitive veela nose he reeked of fire whiskey, and worse.

Gabrielle realized it was a testament to his power and presence that he had held himself together for the duration of the class, because he was plainly a shattered remnant of the man she had crushed over.

"It's good to see you again." She answered in a whisper, after a long moment of study.

"Gabrielle, what do you want? Do you have a question to ask me about the class, because I have a lot of work to do?" Harry interrupted abruptly.

Gabrielle flinched. "I just wanted to say hello, Harry. I haven't seen you in ages."

"I'm busy, Gabrielle."

The student took the quiet statement as the dismissal it clearly was and fled from the classroom.

* * *

She met with her friends who were waiting outside for her. Rubbing wetness that was forming at the corner of her eyes, Gabrielle smiled weakly at Dominique, Jean, and Alexander.

"Are you alright?" Dom asked softly.

Gabrielle nodded sadly and Jean asked, "Why did you stay after class? I couldn't leave fast enough."

Dominique answered for her friend. "She knows Master Potter personally. Through her sister and her husband."

"He helped me when I was depressed about school." Gabrielle added. "I was really lost my first year and having a hard time. He showed me how to have fun with my magic. It's because of him I learned how to fuse my art and magic together."

"Him?" Alexander said incredulously. "How could he help you?"

"He wasn't always like this." Gabrielle answered quietly. "The Harry I knew… his eyes twinkled."

* * *

_Flashback_

_Gabrielle was having the worst Christmas of her life._

_What made it worse was that everyone else was having a grand time. For once, the whole family was present at the Burrow. Ginny, in her sixth year at Hogwarts, and Fred and George, fresh from their weapon manufacturing job for the Order, made a special trip home laden with gifts. Bill and Fleur (who eagerly showed off her Egyptian-cut diamond engagement ring), who spent much of their time on overseas missions for the Order were there. So was Charlie, who happened to be one of the orders heaviest hitters, thanks to the discovery of his dragon Animagus form. Also there was Ron, his girlfriend Hermione and best friend Harry. Harry had brought his girlfriend of a year and half, Luna Lovegood. _

_The Burrow had been decorated with all the frenetic Christmas spirit of a home that desperately needed a respite from the ongoing war. Pixie lights conjured by Molly and Arthur adorned the doors and windows. Bill and Charlie had summoned the largest evergreen they could find. Fred and George dressed it with a variety of Wizarding ornaments that sparkled, twinkled, and exploded with amusing regularity. And everyone was safely cocooned within ironclad, but temporary, wards of Albus Dumbledore, who crafted them solely for the use of the family who formed his most strident supporters so they might enjoy a well deserved holiday. The mismatched home was filled with joy and laughter in every corner and drenched in the fragrances of Christmas cooking._

_It was all making Gabrielle sick. _

_The silver haired first year sat outside the burrow, feebly waving her wand at small stones in an attempt to skip the stones using a basic levitation charm. She desperately wished Fleur hadn't dragged her along. She dropped her wand arm when she heard the crunch of approaching footsteps._

"_Why aren't you inside, Gabby?" Harry asked softly. "Even with the wards you shouldn't be alone."_

"_I can handle myself." Gabrielle muttered under her breath. "I just wanted to be alone for awhile." In a louder voice, she shot back "Anyway, what are you doing here?"_

"_I'm sure you can." Harry agreed placidly, "but still, there's no need to tempt fate. As for what I'm doing here, Luna thought the crowd was making me snippy."_

"_I don't think you're snippy," Gabrielle added with a blush and a whisper._

_Harry ran his fingers through his short hair. "It's probably for the best I stepped out anyway. I'm not really used to crowds. Besides," he added in a mischievous grin, "My favorite person is out here anyway."_

_Gabrielle let out a quiet giggle in spite of her mood._

_The lean seventh year plopped himself next to the younger girl. "What's really wrong, Gabby? No one really wants to be alone when there's a great Christmas party going on."_

_The silver haired girl stared off into space for a few minutes. "I'm a terrible witch," she whispered. "I can't make any of the spells work the way they're supposed to. Everyone else my year is doing a lot better than me and I try and talk with my teachers but they won't do anything and I tried to talk with Fleur and she just said that I would get better once I got a little older and my magic got stronger, but everyone is making fun of me now and I want it to stop." _

_The torrent of words came out in a rush and Gabrielle blushed brightly when she realized she had just vented in front of her crush._

_Harry just stood up and extended a hand towards the sitting first year. "Stand up."_

_Gabrielle stared doubtfully at Harry. "What for?"_

_Harry smiled lightly. "Don't you trust me?"_

_The girl took Harry's hand and he pulled Gabrielle to her feet. "I want you to close your eyes and feel your wand. Really feel it." He instructed._

_Gabby nodded and tightly shut her eyes. "Does your wand feel warm and kind of tingly?" Harry asked._

_The young girl nodded._

"_Good. Now I want you to take that feeling and push it out. Try and make the air around you feel the same, and the ground under your feet. Can you do that?"_

_The tiny first year screwed up her face and sweat shone on her forehead despite the coolness of the evening. After a few seconds she gasped._

"_I feel it!" she said excitedly. "It's like a warm blanket covering everything."_

_Harry smiled and patted her on the shoulder companionably. "If you can feel earth magic then you have a whole heap of talent. Your sister and Bill are some of the only wizards I know besides me and Dumbledore who can feel it. You'll get better with time, Gabby. In fact, I'll bet you're going to get so good that all your friends will be jealous of you."_

"_Really?" Gabrielle asked doubtfully. "I'm good at magic?" _

"_You don't believe me?" Harry asked in mock outrage. "Fine then, I'll show you a spell that will once and for all convince you that you have real talent. Close your eyes and stick your wand straight up into the air."_

_Gabrielle dutifully followed the emerald eyed boy's directions. She squeezed her eyes shut and pointed her yew wand straight upwards._

"_Do you remember the first time you ever saw a rainbow, Gabby? What it looked like hanging in the air?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Concentrate on that. Concentrate on the colors, Gabrielle. Red, Green, Blue, all the colors in the rainbow. Feel the colors, feel them twisting around inside you right over your heart. Feel them pushing free. Now say the words, Aurora Aerthum."_

"_Aurora Aerthum!" _

_Gabrielle sagged against the older boy as the force of the spell left her. Harry steadied her with his arms and the young girl shivered slightly at his simultaneously strong and gentle grip. "Open your eyes, Gabby." She knew she had succeeded with the spell. She could hear her success written in the pleasure of Harry's tone. Gabrielle opened her eyes and nearly fainted in amazement._

_The sky over the Burrow was lit up like the aurora borealis painted with all the colors in a rainbow. Blues and greens swirled and warred with reds and oranges. They flowed and twisted without bleeding into each other. And it stretched like a ribbon in every direction as far as Gabrielle could see. _

_It was the most beautiful thing Gabrielle had ever seen._

"_You did that, Gabby. You made the sky light up with the power of your magic. All by yourself. The next time one of your friends or your teacher makes you feel bad, just remember this." Harry smiled at the young silver haired beauty. "You make the heavens shine."_

_It was the best Christmas Gabrielle ever had._

_End Flashback

* * *

_

It was always worst at night.

When the work of the day was done and the sun had set, memories could creep up on a person. They could seep into your thoughts like a slow leak that was held at bay by the seal of the daily grind.

Harry wandered through his apartment like a man lost. He searched and paced, looking for… something, anything to drive off the spirits that followed him like a pack of braying hounds.

_I miss you Luna. Moonshine. My sweet Moonshine._

The room that Beauxbatons had provided for him was every bit as beautiful one would expect from the aesthetically pleasing school. It consisted of a large sitting room/library, a small dining area, and a bedroom. The rooms were brightly colored and decorated with inanimate paintings, blooming plants, and hand carved furniture. His room was on the second floor of the teacher's dormitory and he had an impressive view of the school grounds from his balcony—the one he reached through a set of huge double glass doors. He even had a small muggle kitchen added so he wouldn't be bothered by the House elves. All in all it was a beautifully appointed room, one that any teacher could be proud to live in.

But Harry saw none of it.

Sagging into a deeply cushioned chair, Harry let his thumb slide over the very warm bottle of fire whiskey held in his hand. The magical beverage was hot to the touch but Harry had long since grown used to its searing warmth. Popping the cork, Harry poured the blazing liquid down his throat and felt the sear as the magic worked on him. Leaning back, Harry closed his eyes.

_Damn you old man. You taught me everything but how to live with the afterwards_.

This wasn't the way things were supposed to be. This wasn't supposed to be his afterwards. He was supposed to be married to Luna now, and a father to the next generation of Potters. That was why he had pushed himself so far during his training sixth year: The promise of an ended war and a life of blissful peace with the woman he loved and his best friends at his side was to be his reward.

That was why he'd undergone the awesomely painful Pensieve learning process and tattooed himself with war runes. That was why he suffered the bruises of dueling training and the months of spell craft under the tutelage of Dumbledore and other hand picked teachers. It was why he joined the Order of the Phoenix on the eve of his seventeenth birthday.

He'd wanted a life with Luna Lovegood more than anything in the world. He could still her titter when they talked about the future. She always laughed off his concerns.

"_We need to worry about the now, Harry. The future will attend to itself. It always does"_

And the future had. It decided to write Luna out of Harry's life completely. Steal her from him.

Harry took another long pull from the neck of the bottle, the red whiskey spilling around his mouth and tracing burning paths along his skin. It hurt like hell.

_Good_.

Luna had saved his sanity after he'd lost Sirius. Her perfect serenity, as powerfully cultivated as her oddity, was an anchor for Harry. She was a grove of bamboo in the storm of his life. He could rage at her, rant at her, cry on her shoulder, and she handled it all with the equanimity of a saint.

Her long and rambling letters to him over the summer before his sixth year had seemed like stream of consciousness nonsense at first, but on rereads Harry discovered a profound wisdom in his new friend. It was as though she knew exactly what he needed to hear in order to survive the summer.

It was only later when Harry discovered she was a Seer that he realized it could literally have been true.

God! He wasn't numb enough. He felt thick. His flesh was dulled, but still he hurt. Harry shook the bottle and discovered it was empty. Stumbling to his feet, he drunkenly wove to the cabinet to fetch another bottle of the sixty year old Fire Whiskey. Fumbling the bottle with his numbed fingers, he drank it straight as he wove his way back to the chair.

Luna would hate this, he realized. She would hate seeing him this way, drowning like this. She would never have wanted him to feel sorry for himself. So he did what he did whenever he thought about Luna.

He drank until he couldn't feel much of anything.

* * *

_Several weeks later_

Harry knocked on the door that led in the headmistress's office. He had been less than pleased about receiving the summons, but he went.

"Come in, Harry." A lilting French voice called out from the other side.

Harry opened the door and walked into the Spartan but attractive office. The headmistress of Beauxbatons sat behind her desk shuffling paperwork.

Sofia DuShae was as tiny as Madam Maxine had been large. The wraithlike woman looked young, impossibly so, to be the head of a famed magical institution. But then, she also looked impossibly young to be one of the most dangerous witches on the face of the planet, but she was that too. Sofia wore ornate ivory hued robes and her ebony hair was placed in a complicated twist, exposing a slender, swanlike neck. As always, Harry was slightly awed by the woman who was many decades older than he, but appeared young enough to be a student at the school she ran. Calmly taking the seat in front of her, Harry waited for his employer to begin speaking.

She didn't start right away. Her stormy grey eyes considered Harry for several long moments.

"I've been hearing disturbing things about your class, Mister Potter." She began.

So it was to be formality.

Her voice was unusually husky and commanding for a petite woman and she worked it for all it was worth. "Students have been approaching me about how hard you work them and the pressure you put them under. Normally I would dismiss the allegations as simply students blowing off steam about a stern teacher, but after so many I had to enquire Do you know what I found?"

"I have to push them. Defense isn't a joke, Sophie. You know that." Harry retorted. "They have to learn what's out there and what to do about it."

"Sixteen injuries in your class in the past month, Harry." The headmistress spat as though she hadn't heard him. "Sixteen! And seven children had to be put in the hospital ward for magical exhaustion. I would have heard about it earlier but for the school healer being besotted with you." She shook her head. "My god, Harry. What are you doing to them?"

"I'm teaching them how to be strong. What they need to know in order to protect themselves."

"The War is over, Harry." Sofia rejoined in a quiet voice. "They don't need the same boot camp that you did."

"They have to learn, Sofia. Learn about how dangerous the world is. Learn about all the dark groups out there." Harry shot back just as quietly.

"This isn't training for the future, Harry!" The headmistress bellowed, shaking the parchment of grievances at Harry. "You are putting my students in danger and I want you to stop."

Harry stood up abruptly. "Then fire me." He retorted in deadened tone. Harry turned and began walking towards the door, only to be called back by his friend's voice.

"What happened to you, Harry?" Sofia asked in a whisper. "What happened to the best teacher I've ever seen? What happened to the man who could reach any student, whose eyes sparkled with life every second he instructed others?"

Harry cast away his eyes, unwilling to meet Sofia's gaze for the first time during the confrontation. "You learn to hate teaching, Sofia, when your students do nothing but die."

* * *

_Harry, we need to talk…_

_No, that's not right._

_Harry, this is me, Gabby. Talk to me, please._

_Better._

Gabrielle stood in front of Harry's door. It had been weeks and so far he had dodged all her attempts to talk with him. She had fire-called Fleur, but the older Veela couldn't provide any insight into what was wrong with him. All she would say was that days after the defeat of Voldemort, Harry had disappeared from the Wizarding world, using all of his formidable skills to evade everyone who searched for him. Gabrielle, who had been at school during the waning days of the war, asked her sister what he had been like before he disappeared. She would never forget the response.

"'E was as zee living dead, Gabrielle. Zere was no more fire in 'im. 'E had been broken by ze war, and 'e simply did not realize it till after it was over."

Her stomach twisted into knots. _I'm not strong enough for this Luna. Why did you lay this on me?_ The idea of confronting Harry terrified her. Not because she thought he would ever hurt her, but because there were things—secrets—that not even Harry knew, and those secrets could break him further in the state he was in. The young Veela drew a deep, steadying breath and raised her hand to knock on the door. Before she could, a terrible crash sounded from the other side of the door.

_Morganna, Harry!_

Gabrielle whipped out her wand and blasted the door open. She ran inside, praying that Harry was alright.

She found him lying semi-conscious in a pool of fire whiskey, the shattered bottle of liquor beginning to scorch the carpet. The Man-Who-Killed-Voldemort moaned and tried to move.

"Ish all rish, I'sh okay." Harry mumbled. "Jush need some help to stand." He pushed himself to his hands and knees and stayed in that position for a few moments before rolling onto his side, unconscious. Gouges and cuts covered his face and arms and the front of his robes were smeared in blood.

Gabrielle was amazed at his strength. A quick glance at the empty bottles told her that he had already imbibed far too much of the alcoholic beverage. Considering his size and weight, as well as the strength of the drink, he shouldn't even have stayed conscious for as long has he had.

Grunting, she dragged him over to the couch and a swift levitation charm later, Harry was nestled on its soft surface.

Gabrielle removed the top of Harry's robes to examine him for wounds. The young girl was amazed by Harry's chest. For someone of his reputation, Gabrielle would not have been surprised to see his upper body covered with scars. But his thin, sculpted torso was completely unmarked by scar tissue. Even as she watched, his wounds were already scabbing over. The only permanent marks on his otherwise nearly hairless chest were a pair of tattoos that coiled together over his heart. The artist in Gabrielle noted the exquisite red lily and small, rearing stag were rendered in loving, almost photorealistic detail, and as she leaned over for a closer look, she found dozens of tiny runes imbedded in both tattoos. Conjuring a wet cloth, Gabrielle began drying the blood that covered his chest.

With smooth, even strokes she cleaned up every trace of the red fluid which marred Harry. As she did so, Gabrielle examined his features, in a futile attempt to divine what was wrong with him, what was wrong with the man she considered to be one of the greatest influences on her life, despite their minimal contact over the years.

Finally reaching his face, Gabrielle cleaned out the wounds that were already starting to heal. The alcoholic rest had smoothed out the lines of his features, granting him a peace he evidently could not find while awake.

"What's wrong with you, Harry?" She mumbled to herself.

She hated seeing him like this. More than that, it was almost physically painful to see Harry this way. She remembered being much younger and begging her sister for news about the war, specifically anything Harry was doing. And the stories Fleur told!

They were almost impossible to believe, some of stories Fleur told about Harry, but Gabrielle knew they were all true. Harry Potter had been a one man army, sometimes clearing entire cities of Death Eater cells. He killed Voldemort's vampire delegation single handedly, including the enigmatic vampire king who had taken the title of Dracula. Fleur told Gabrielle one amazing story of Harry holding off an army of Dementors alone as he fought to keep them from kissing an entire children's ward in a muggle hospital. Harry's deeds weren't the work of one man, even a legendary man.

They were the work of a living myth.

Gabrielle brushed loose strands of his hair away from his scar and frowned. He didn't deserve to feel this way, she mused. No one did, but Harry more than most. He had done so much good for the world, saved so many lives. He deserved to have his happy ending more than anyone else. That's what heroes were supposed to get.

And no one was a bigger hero than Harry Potter.

* * *

_Ugh_

Harry opened his eyes and immediately closed them again. Cautiously, he reopened his eyes. Good. The room had stopped spinning. From the other side of his couch Harry heard the sound of dishes being washed.

Slowly, so as to not cause the orchestra in his head to start playing again, Harry lifted his head over the couch and saw Gabrielle in the kitchenette. The young witch had pushed up her sleeves and was cleaning his dishes the old-fashioned way.

_What the hell is she doing here? Did I call her? Did she hear me do something? Did I say anything while I was drunk?_

Harry stared at the girl while he frantically tried to organize his thoughts. He took the opportunity to really study the girl he'd known in one way or another for almost her entire life.

Gabrielle Delacour wasn't the little girl he first met during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. She was taller, taller than even her sister, with long coltish limbs that seemed to convey grace and youth all at once. She had Fleur's enviously perfect cream skin and large sapphire eyes set into a face with cheekbones that any model would envy. Unlike her sister, who had stunning waist length white-blond hair, Gabrielle's hair was the color of platinum, a silvery white color that was as breathtakingly beautiful as it was exotic.

"Oh, good, you're awake." Gabrielle turned around and flashed white teeth from behind a perfect smile. A smile that flickered slightly with uncertainty as the bloom of a blush spread across her cheek. She lifted a hand to her face. "Do I have a smudge on me?"

Harry shook his head in wonder. "No, I was just looking at you and wondering when you grew up," he rasped in a sandpapery voice.

"It was a while back, Harry." Gabrielle chided softly.

Stopping what she was doing, Gabrielle walked back over to Harry and sat down across from him.

"So…" she began uncomfortably.

"Thank you for helping me out Gabrielle," Harry said ruefully. He ran his hand through his silver speckled ebony hair. "I appreciate it, but now I think you should go."

Harry stood up as a signal for Gabrielle to leave. The veela stayed were she was and crossed her arms in indignation.

"We need to talk about this, Harry." She shot back. "You're falling apart. You're clearly drinking too much and Merlin only knows what else you're doing to yourself." Harry flinched at that. "You're a shadow of the teacher you used to be. The students are grumbling all the time—and I know that you're better than you've shown so far." Her expression softened. "Everyone misses you during the holidays. Mrs. Weasley worries about you so much. Last Christmas I caught her crying alone… over you."

Harry looked down. "It's complicated, Gabby," he explained, lapsing unconsciously into the familiar nickname.

"I… There… people care about you, Harry. Do you know how many people would help you if you would just ask?"

"I don't deserve any help!" Harry shouted hoarsely. "I don't deserve it! After everything… after Hermione…. Luna, I don't deserve to be helped!"

"None of those deaths were your fault. It was a war. People died." Gabrielle shouted back. "Blame Voldemort and all the stupid death eaters that followed him."

Harry crossed his arms. "You just don't get it, Gabrielle. Luna was my fault. She wouldn't be dead if it wasn't for me."

Gabrielle was shocked nearly into silence by Harry's declaration. There was more than just survivor's guilt talking. There was something deeper.

"What do you mean?" The teenaged veela asked softly.

Harry looked away from her. "Nothing, Gabby. Just forget it."

"No! I won't forget it. You are my hero Harry. You need to talk to someone about what's going on and I am going to be that someone. If I have to dose you up to your eyeballs with my veela charm to get you to talk then I will."

Harry gave Gabrielle a thin-lipped smile. "I don't want to talk and do you really think Veela charm will work on me if I don't want it to?"

Gabrielle tightened her features. "I don't want to try, Harry. Don't make me try." She whispered. "Just talk to me please. Let go of your burden."

"No."

"Then I don't have a choice." Gabrielle whispered. Gathering all of her strength in the blink of an eye, she blasted Harry with the strongest dose of her charm that she could muster.

It shouldn't have worked.

Harry Potter possessed one of the strongest wills on the planet. He was trained in a half dozen mental techniques for fighting foreign influences and his raw magical strength and sheer stubbornness protected him even further. Some of the mightiest mindbenders in the world had tried and failed to defeat his will. But Harry had also spent more than a year abusing his body and mind with alcohol. Grief that had gone on longer than a year withered his stubbornness and sapped the edge of his skills. Still, Harry was an incredibly powerful wizard, and no charm from an immature quarter-veela should have been able to pierce his mental shields. It should not have worked.

But it did.

* * *

Once again. Please read and review.


	2. Chapter 2

The Art of Healing

Part 2

By Phoenixgod2000

Authors note: I forgot to thank my betas when I posted the last chapter. So thank you betas for all of your hard work and insight.

Second authors note: this chapter deals with some pretty dark things. Not explicitly, but be warned. Harry ain't had a happy life.

* * *

_Harry's story_

I'd like to say that all of my problems are because of Luna dying. But that isn't true. I was in trouble a long time before Luna. She was just the straw that broke the camels back. She sent me over a cliff that I was teetering on the whole war.

It started with the DA. After Sirius died at the end of my fifth year, Dumbledore finally decided that I needed more training than Hogwarts could provide me. He arranged for some of the best wizards in the world to come to and train me. I learned from Charms Masters and Shamans, Shape Shifters and Necromancers, dueling lords and Unspeakables. I even underwent an apprenticeship bond and learned from Dumbledore himself. Despite all that, I couldn't learn fast enough to fight Voldemort, so I started using Pensieve training to incorporate knowledge directly into my brain. I used rituals and potions to strengthen my body, mind, and magic. The transformations and everything else I was learning nearly drove me to madness. Only two things saved me:

Luna and Dumbledore's Army.

Everything I learned, I taught to the DA. I taught them things that no student should ever have to know but that might save their lives in a battle. Teaching became my salvation. There's nothing like it in the world. Seeing the light in someone's eye or the smile after a student masters a particularly difficult spell… its indescribable. And I taught them well. When Hogwarts was under siege it wasn't the teachers who protected the school, it wasn't Aurors or Unspeakables. It was the DA. My students held the school against Voldemort's army of darkness for three days. In my pride I thought that we would be enough. That I had taught them enough. We held the school, alright, but the cost was high… too high.

Hannah Abbot, Cho Chang, Michael Corner, Dennis Creevey, and half dozen more of my students died in that siege.

They all got the Order of Merlin Second Class posthumously.

I got the Order of Merlin First Class. My first Order of Merlin. The night I got the medal I cried in my room for hours. I wept because I was the leader. I was in charge. Every last one of the dead was killed following orders I gave them and I wasn't ready for that. All of my training, all of my powers and skills, and no one taught me how the handle the simple pain of losing someone under your leadership. I hadn't taught them enough. I hadn't made decisions fast enough, I hadn't…nothing I had done was enough…

If it hadn't been for Luna and my friends I would have fallen apart.

After the Siege of Hogwarts, I think that's what the newspapers called it, anyway, every last member of the DA was allowed into the Order of the Phoenix. The last veil around Dumbledore's eyes had fallen and he recognized that students were going to have to fight in the war too if anyone was going to survive Voldemort's purges.

Over the years of the war, I became the defacto leader of the second generation of the Order of the Phoenix. I went on missions, traveled around the world, and tried my best to stop Voldemort's plans. All the while I kept trying to get close enough to him to end him and fulfill the prophecy. Sometimes people died, and it got harder and harder to just keep the mask in place.

Then Hermione was killed.

It was bad intelligence—we were going after a book of dark magic that was in some catacombs beneath Paris. In the words of one of my muggle military instructors, the mission ended up being a royal cluster fuck. Voldemort was supposed to be nowhere near France. Hermione came with Ron and me because she was needed to translate the shorthand the book was written in and make sure we got what we were going for. We got the book and were headed back to the Floo hub when Voldemort and a half dozen death eaters ambushed us in the middle of the street near the center of the city. Ron and I were experienced duelists, but Hermione wasn't. She'd never had the killer instinct you needed to take life without hesitation, even a Death Eater's life, so we used her as a magical scholar and intelligence analyst for the Order. Hermione was a fantastic witch, a formidable opponent, but she was never supposed to get into a fight.

But she did.

Hermione Granger was without a doubt one of the best scholars in the entire Order. Probably in all of Britain. A couple of the books she wrote are still used as Charm texts in Hogwarts. Her only real advantage in a battle was her encyclopedic knowledge of spells and her roster of battle spells that only she knew, because she invented them. That was enough to hold her in good stead during most of the fight.

The battle raged across muggle Paris and lasted until the French Aurors showed up. Most of the fight is still a blur to me, but the end is still painfully clear in my mind.

Voldemort detonated some kind of blasting spell that knocked me into a building. I was half conscious and nowhere near battle capable. I remember sitting there, beaten, my head pounding, bones broken, Voldemort standing over me, framed against the sun like a giant blot. I remember his thin, pink smile and his wand slowly lowering towards my face. I remember the bastard laughing at me. He was always big on taunting, you see. Liked to revel in the moment before the kill, like some kind of Dementor feeding on his opponents fear. I remember thinking that I had failed, failed my parents, Dumbledore, everybody. I was as good as dead, and I had just doomed the entire world by not killing Voldemort.

And I remember Hermione calling him out. Part of me was surprised to see her. Ron was down another street, no where near this part of the battle, I was beat, the smart move would have been for Hermione to portkey to safety, try to salvage the mission. Not that she would have left us behind in a million years… I remember Voldemort turning and raising his wand. I remember the absolute contempt he had for her. His posture just screamed it.

And I fondly remember the look of absolute amazement when his first three rapid fire spells were deflected with nothing more than a causal wave of her wand. Then the duel began in earnest.

A lot people at school thought that Hermione should have been in Ravenclaw. After watching her go toe-to-toe with the darkest wizard of the 20th century, though, there's no doubt in my mind that the sorting hat got it right: Hermione was a Gryffindor to the bone. Her challenging Voldemort was the single bravest thing I've ever seen. I faced him many times, but almost always with the knowledge that I could potentially beat him. Not Hermione, though; she knew the prophecy, knew she couldn't win, hell, she probably knew she was going to die before she even opened her mouth, but she didn't even pause before fighting him anyway. More than fought him, she actually forced him back. I can tell… you don't understand the significance of that. She, Hermione Granger, muggle-born representative of everything he hated, forced him backwards. Put him on the defensive. Only five people in all of the Wizarding World can boast of doing that to Lord Voldemort. Of those people only myself, Dumbledore, and Severus Snape are still alive. Dueling the Dark Lord cost Alastor Moody his life and it cost Hermione hers. But she sold her life quite dearly. At the end of the battle, Hermione was a still, crumpled form on the ground, and Voldemort was doing little better. When he apparated away, he did so without his right arm.

She was twenty one years old.

Hermione's death hit both of us hard. Despite everything, I thought the three of us would always be together, deep down inside, I always thought we were immortal and would walk out of the war whole and unharmed. Ron fell apart and I wasn't much better. I don't know how Ron held it together, but for me, I leaned on Luna—just like I always did. She was my rock.

Ron was transformed. He threw himself into his work and dedicated every moment to ending the war so that there would never be another person who would feel the same loss he did. I worked with him myself till he was about as powerful as his raw magical talent would allow him to be.

I gave the war my all too, I drove Luna away, under the mistaken impression that she was my weakness, and started going on more and more raids. Taking bigger and bigger risks. My metamorphmagus talents allowed me to get deep into Voldemort's organization and I wreaked havoc on his army. That's how I got the name Gryffindor's Assassin. I lost myself in the violence of the war until the day I was captured.

You've heard the story. Everyone knows the story of the Dark Lord's Pit and his torturers. Everyone knows how I became the first and only person to escape The Pit after four months of constant torture. But I've never told the story of how I escaped… until now, I guess.

I wish I could attribute it to my amazing magical powers or one of my Animagus forms. But it wasn't either of those things. I simply escaped because I had help. Bellatrix Black's help to be precise.

She was the lead torturer in the Pit. She loved her job and Voldemort put her personally charge of my breaking. Day after day she appeared in my cell and used magic and muggle methods to mutilate me and inflict pain. Thanks to several of the magical rituals I had undergone and my Metamorphmagus skills I healed fast and without scars. Bellatrix is nothing short of a connoisseur of sadism and she relished having a victim that would be unmarked the next day. She was… free… to go to a higher level with me than with any of her other subjects. She worked tirelessly to break me.

And it worked.

I can still remember the day she walked into my cell without the customary smirk on her face. She walked with a seductive swagger and approached me. I can still feel the heat of her body and breath as she whispered that she loved me, that I had impressed her with my resiliency and power. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and I can still feel the stroke of her hands across my groin, her warm serpentine tongue sliding its way along my face...

Somehow, in the middle of all of the torture, she had fallen in love with me and decided to move our relationship to a new level.

And I responded. I responded because I would have done anything to not hurt, to not be subjected to torture anymore. I would have cut Dumbledore's throat to stop the pain. My body betrayed Luna. I betrayed Luna. I allowed Bellatrix to… use me… just so I could have one more minute, one more second of respite from the torture.

I can't tell you how many days or weeks I spent in this new torture. Without constant physical pain, I started to come back to myself. I slowly convinced her that together we could overthrow Voldemort and that she could be my queen. To… convince Bellatrix of my honesty I had to participate with her. I had to show her that I meant what I said.

You see Bellatrix is a skilled Legimens. She knew exactly what I was thinking so I had to trick her. I forced everything I felt for Luna into the tiniest part of my brain and force myself to believe that I loved Bellatrix. I had to convince her that I felt for her and in order to do that I had to literally make that become true, at least in a small part. Everything I had went into the deception.

This meant that a part of me had to stop loving Luna.

Bellatrix Black is a woman of strong appetites and it took a lot of… convincing to get her to help free me. But I did it.

One night we snuck out of the Pit and we made our way to the surface world. We reached the surface and when I no longer needed her I struck her down from behind. At that point I made the worst mistake of my life.

I let her live.

I felt bad because of my lies and I was too weak to take her with me to re-imprison in Azkaban so I just left her to the tender mercies of her lord and master.

I made my way back to civilization and headed back to the Order of the Phoenix headquarters. Luna was waiting for me. Everyone else thought I was dead. But not Luna. She knew I would come back. And when I did she instantly knew what I had done in order to survive and escape. I begged her for forgiveness. Do you know what she told me?

There was nothing to forgive. Harry.

Nothing to forgive? I couldn't believe that she would say that. That she would take me back so easily. After all I had done to her, after the way I pushed her away from me. I disgusted even myself. I couldn't, for the life of me imagine why she would even want me back.

But she did.

We moved in together soon after I got back. Luna nursed me back to health. I was in a bad way after my four months in The Pit. I had lost muscle and weight. Rituals and potions had enhanced my physical body to superhuman levels but it also sped up my metabolism and without regular food I had become very frail. There were other problems too…

Luna understood. She got that it would take time for me heal. After a few months of recuperation I was doing really well. The replenishing potions and hot meals restored my physical strength. I could touch Luna again without flinching. In a lot of ways, those few months were some of the happiest memories of my life other than the few sparks of normalcy that Hogwarts offered in the days before the war kicked into high gear.

Despite my quick healing I wasn't ready for service quite yet. I had lost some of that killing spark, the instinct that made me want to fight to win. It was difficult to maintain that sort of edge after what I had gone through. I was out for a walk around a park in muggle London when it happened.

That day is etched in my brain forever. What the sun looked like. What the birds at the park were doing. Who I passed along the way.

How far ajar the door was opened when I got back.

How empty the house felt. How silent it was.

You might think that it was weird I would remember that the house was silent, but you've never lived with Luna Lovegood. She was always humming some little ditty that she heard somewhere. Sometimes the Wizarding wireless. Other times it was the radio. Sometimes she would make them up and claim that it was the mating call of some strange beast I had never heard of.

The thing that I remember most of all was her eyes. I found her lying on the bed—our bedwith her eyes closed and hands folded sedately. I knew then that there was something wrong. Luna always slept wildly, with her limbs splayed around and her eyes open. This time there was something too peaceful about the way she lay in the bed. It wasn't…Luna. And there was a note.

_A Promise is a promise, Harry. And I'm going to keep you to yours_.

Bellatrix had done it. She had killed my Luna, my moonshine. Not because of the war. Not because of a mission from her master. She killed her because of me. Because of what I told her, the promises I made to her when I was in the Pit.

I discovered my killer instinct again on that day.

I went back to work afterwards. I threw myself back into the war. I become more than soldier or a leader in the Order of the Phoenix. I became more than the Assassin of Gryffindor. I allowed myself to tap into the darkest parts of my being and my magic. I showed no mercy; I became an angel of death. I took bloody retribution on all of the Death Eaters I came across, and eventually the Dark Lord himself a year later.

But I never saw Bella again.

When the war was over there was nothing left to stop me from thinking about Luna, Hermione, and the Members of the DA who had died under my command. The parties and award ceremonies that I kept getting invited to seemed so meaningless. Everyone seemed so happy and for the life of me I could not figure out why. I was just empty. One day I just decided to leave. It was after a fight with Ron. He had finally started to date again. Two years after Hermione died. And I screamed at him. Shrieked that he never loved her. That he shouldn't betray her memory like that. I was angrier at him than I could possibly say. For a very simple reason that had nothing to do with Hermione.

I couldn't face the fact that Ron was healing when all I could feel was a gaping wound where Luna should have rested.

So I left.

Besides, I knew that Bellatrix Black was out there somewhere since she was never a casualty in any of the battles or one of the prisoners captured and kissed. So I decided to find her.

And now you know everything.

* * *

Gabrielle felt the sting of tears as Harry's story ended. Absently she wondered when she started crying. She couldn't remember. And she wasn't the only one crying.

Harry's face was blotchy and streaked with tears. He blinked his red-rimmed eyes, her charm fading from them slowly. "That was unkind, Gabrielle." he rasped. "Now that you know, am I still your hero?"

Gabrielle leaned forward and stroked his tear-streaked face. "More than ever, Harry." She whispered tremulously.

Harry snapped backwards. "I don't want your pity." He pushed her away and stood up. "I don't need it and I don't want it."

Gabrielle stiffened and a frown of displeasure crossed her stunning features. "I don't pity you. I respect and admire you. The things you did… that you endured were necessary. They kept you alive. Long enough to kill Voldemort and save everyone. You are, and will always be my hero, Harry. And I'm not going to let you destroy yourself any more." The teenager got up and stalked into the kitchen with a vengeance. Hefting her wand Gabrielle shouted, _"Accio_ Fire Whiskey!"

Harry started when he heard what Gabrielle was summoning. He stood up and began moving into the kitchen even as bottles from every corner of the apartment flew towards the young veela and arranged themselves at her feet.

"What are you doing, Gabrielle?"

"I'm getting rid of your fire whiskey." She answered back calmly. "It isn't doing you any good and you need to stop drinking it. It's preventing you from healing." She proceeded to pour out the first bottle into the muggle sink. Harry stared as the flaming red liquor drained away.

His first instinct was to draw his wand and stop her from getting rid of his safety net. He wanted to crawl back into the bottle and never come out. He needed it. He needed not to feel, because all he could feel was pain. All he could remember was loss. He didn't even need his wand to stop her. He had been trained by topflight muggle soldiers from America. He was as deadly without his magic as he was with it. He could disarm her with a quick strike. Knock her unconscious and remove her from the room. Sink back into the darkness and numbness she had found him in earlier. It would be easy…

Harry clenched his fist and his muscles bunched. He took an aggressive step forward expecting the young witch to stop what she was doing. Scarier people than a sixteen year old veela had broken solely from the expression on his face. Gabrielle turned her head slightly to watch him, but she didn't flinch in fear or stop what she was doing.

She had faith that her hero wouldn't strike her.

That realization struck him more powerfully than any stunner could have. What the hell was he doing? Had he really fallen so far? Attack one of his students? Attack Gabby? Harry leaned against his wall. Was this who he had become?

No, he realized belatedly, it wasn't. For the first time in ages Harry could see the kind of man he used to be and he realized that he wanted to be that man again. Needed to be that man again. Gabrielle, by forcing him to tell his story, had broken the seal of his pain and opened the door to try.

"You've been there for so many people so many times. You've been there for me so many times. Let me be there for you. Let me help you, Harry." Gabrielle whispered.

Harry Potter closed his eyes, trying to stop the tears from spilling out and slowly nodded his head.

* * *

_A few days later_

Harry thrashed in his bed with inhuman levels of strength. Sweat drenched his body, soaking his sheets. His formerly untamed hair was plastered to his skull and his eyes burned with power and pain the few times he was willing to open them. Both of his legs had been tied to the bottom posts of the frame as was one of his arms in order to prevent him from lashing out against those around him.

Gabrielle sat by his bed and gripped Harry's free arm with a white knuckled grip of her own.

The first step in Harry's healing process was weaning him off his drug of choice. Fire Whiskey was notoriously difficult when it came to breaking the physical addiction and Harry had been drinking like a giant for more than a year. His enhanced physical attributes meant that in order to get the result he wanted, he was forced to drink much more than normal as well as use certain magics that weakened his resistances to the poison. So when he finally stopped drinking cold turkey, his long abused body hit back.

Hard.

Gabrielle spoke with the headmistress and received permission to miss a few days of classes because her veela talents would help take the edge off the worst of the withdrawal pains.

It was highly unusual to allow a student in so sensitive a position, but the past relationship between Gabrielle and Harry convinced Headmistress DuShae to allow the young veela to watch over Harry.

Besides, Sofia was willing to do almost anything in order to see her friend back to his old self.

Harry thrashed and screamed, the bellows of pain not carrying past the silencing wards laid around his room. Gabrielle leaned over his body and slowly released a trickle of her aura. Harry, in no condition to resist the charm, calmed down. His eyes opened and he held Gabrielle's gaze with his emerald orbs.

"Moonshine?" He whispered questioningly. "Is that you?" His voice was hoarse and thick and he spoke in a hesitant voice with an almost painful amount of hope laced through it.

"Ssshhh, Harry." Gabrielle cooed, tears tracing their way along her cheeks. "It's all right. I'm right here." She hated lying to him but in his state he sometimes forgot that Luna was dead. It was just easier to play along and ride the delusion out.

It broke her heart every single time.

"Sssooo, sorry, moonshine," He whispered, "Never… hurt… love you… my moonshine…." With one hand he reached up and started to stroke her silver hair.

Somehow, he was sensing her pain, Gabrielle realized. Even with what he was going through, he was trying to comfort me because he sensed that I was hurt. His hands were so gentle… it would so easy to close her eyes and pretend. Just for a little while… what could it hurt?

Gabrielle reached up and slowly pulled Harry's hand away from her face. Tears which had once trickled down her face began to drop faster, like a slowly building rain shower.

"Wrong one, Harry." She whispered painfully.

* * *

_Two weeks later_

Gabrielle drummed her fingers on the edge of her desk nervously. Where was he? Harry was supposed to show up early to class so she could talk to him. It had been two weeks since Harry had last taught a class. The headmistress herself had taken them over until his withdrawal symptoms subsided. This was supposed to his first class back and he should have been here already.

She could hear the murmurs in the class behind her. Most of them had turned quite unfriendly when she told them that Harry was returning. Harry had burned a lot of bridges with his tough and relentless teaching techniques. Despite his legendary reputation, many of his students detested him. She was pulled from her reverie when she heard the footsteps in the hallway.

The Harry Potter who walked into the classroom was a very different man than the one who had done so more than two months prior.

His hair was shorter and much neater, much of the silver having disappeared. The redness and puffiness in face and eyes had nearly disappeared and two weeks of better eating had begun to put weight on his skinny frame. Instead of his casual muggle clothes Harry wore collared dress robes appropriate for a teaching master.

The mutterings of the class died down. Soon, the whole class silently waited for Harry to speak. Gabrielle held her breath. What would he say? How was he going to run the class? She smiled softly at him when she saw how uncomfortable he was. He returned her smile with a shy one of his own, recalling, to her mind, the young boy who had once pulled her from a cold lake.

She desperately tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.

Harry cleared his throat and began to speak. "It's good to be back in class. I'm sorry that I've been gone for the past few weeks. Madame DuShae has told me that you've all begun to learn diagnostic and unraveling spells appropriate for dispelling dark curses and enchantments. Good. You never know when you're going to run across a cursed object, and you need to know how to deal with it." Harry said, recalling the summer before 5th year at Grimmauld Place, cleaning the dark artifacts from Sirius' house. Sirius… best not to think too hard on that now. "The lesson for the next few days is going to build on that. But first," and Harry drew a deep breath, "I have something to say." He looked around the room, making sure to hold each students gaze for at least one moment.

"I'm sorry," he whispered once he met the gaze of each student. Gathering strength, he raised his voice. "I'm sorry that I haven't been the teacher you needed or deserved. I'm sorry that I took out my personal problems on you. I expect better of myself as both a man and a teacher and I failed myself and all of you. I will strive to be better." Harry smiled weakly. "I realize that it's going to take some time, but I hope you will all warm to me in time."

Harry pulled out his wand and performed a quick summoning charm. A bag from outside the door whizzed into the room and landed on the desk with a soft plop. Harry reached his arm inside the bag and pulled out a small palm sized cube. It seemed to be made out of solidified quicksilver. Its seamless walls had small runes carved in the center of each side.

"How many of you know what a room of requirement is?" Harry asked the class.

The students looked at each other but none of them spoke. Harry waited patiently, knowing that he deserved the reluctance they were showing him. Eventually a young looking sixth year male named…Pierre, Harry eventually placed, raised his hand. Harry nodded at him.

"Sir, a Room of Requirement is rare magical rooms imbued with temporal magic, as well as transfiguration and charm magics. They produce whatever the people in the room need, although none of the objects can be removed from said room. No more Rooms are being created because the arts needed to craft them have been lost, and the materials needed are believed to be both rare and expensive." The young man looked nervous; right up until Harry smiled at him.

"Thank you, Pierre. You're almost totally right. The arts of making have not been lost; there just aren't many wizards around with the raw power to make them anymore." Harry dexterously spun the silver cube on the tip of his finger. "This is a wishing cube. Think of it like a miniature, one shot Room of Requirement, except that anything it makes is permanent… as long as it's small enough to fit in the middle of the cube. I made one of these for each of you last night."

The class burst into murmurs, although Harry was pleased to note that they were of quite different tone this time. He raised his hands to silence them.

"This isn't a gift easily obtained." Harry warned. "Before you get what you wish for, you must unravel the wards on each side of the cube. Two of the sides possess spells that a fifth year should be able to dispel. Three of the sides have spells that are of your grade level, and one of the sides has a seventh year level spell on it. I, of course, can't use real dark arts spells, so I chose harmless and amusing magics that have similar craft matrices to many well known dark wards." Harry smiled, "and if you think I can't whip up some annoying magics with regular charms and transfigurations think again. I used to work for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes." Harry was amused to note that many of his students looked askance on the cube in his hand once they heard of who he worked for. It seemed that the Weasley Twins' reputation was international now.

Harry tossed the first cube to Gabrielle. She caught it easily and began to turn it over in her hand. She traced one of the runes on the side of the box. She recognized the dwarfish rune for age and wondered what sort of spell it triggered. While thinking, she absently began to scratch her chin, which had begun to itch.

Harry continued to reach into the bag and tossed a box to each of his students. When the last one was passed out, Harry smiled again. "You have the next three days to work on the problem for full credit. First identify each enchantment, and then break it. It'll take some time so you better get started. Since its so nice outside, feel free to go out to garden if you want to experiment. Oh, and be sure to call me if you have a hard time dispelling the effects."

The class moved as one and Harry smiled at his students, happily chattering about what detection methods they were going to use, a few even started betting pools on who would open theirs the fastest.

* * *

Sofia DuShae, Headmistress over Beauxbatons Academy of the Magical Arts, walked sedately down the tree lined path of her school. Her face was safely ensconced in the deep hood of her snow white robe, having no desire to expose her sensitive night elven eyes to the sun. It was on bright days like this one that she most cursed her mother's heritage. The seemingly youthful, but nearly immortal woman drifted down the walkway deep within her own thoughts.

They centered on her emerald eyed friend. She could remember the first time she met Harry Potter, and like always it put a smile on her face.

He had just turned eighteen and was already a decorated veteran of the War. Apprentice to Albus Dumbledore, he was extraordinarily powerful for his age… or any age, in truth. She met him while in a meeting at the order about death eater cells in France. The intense but friendly young man captivated her immediately. Later, she watched him train many of his contemporaries and noticed right away the natural gift for teaching he possessed.

They grew closer when Harry went with her to France in order to flush out several of the more openly dangerous cells. They became quite good friends, and when he departed to work somewhere else, they managed to stay in contact through sporadic owl posts.

When Harry resurfaced a year after Voldemort's fall, Sofia immediately thought of the vacant DADA position at Beauxbatons. He was reluctant at first, but eventually gave in to her wishes. Although it had saddened her greatly to see how low her friend had fallen, she had hoped working with students would help him. Unfortunately, nothing seemed to work or reach him, other than Fleur Delacour's rather stubborn younger sister. Through it all, Gabrielle had greatly impressed Sofia. Not many young girls had the sort of maturity that she demonstrated, and it was even rarer for those of veela blood, for whom lives of ease and immaturity came quite naturally. Of course, Fleur had been much the same, so it shouldn't have been a surprise. Both Delacour girls were strikingly different than their hedonistic and forever immature mother.

The headmistress was pulled from her thoughts when the bubbling sound of laughter reached her sensitive elven ears. Perplexed, she hastened down the walkway toward the sound. Her jaw dropped with amazement when she reached the central garden of the school.

There were students everywhere. All of them had small silver boxes in their hand or on the ground in front of them. She spied Gabrielle Delacour off to the side, a long grey beard and mustache covering her face, clearly attempting some kind of depilatory spell. Another student rolled on the ground, deep in the throes of charmed laughter. A pair of students was sitting on the ground, their cubes rotating in the air in the air before them, colors slowly crawling over the cubes, the sign of a very thorough detection spell. One of the students had rainbow streaked hair and the other seemed to have a beak instead of a nose. Everywhere she looked students were transfigured, charmed, colored, and enspelled in other ways she couldn't articulate. They were about as thoroughly a charmed bunch as she had ever seen.

And every last one of them sported a smile large enough to bring a grin to her own face.

She looked around, trying to find Harry. She found him crouching near a student with a yellow crest of feather replacing her hair, smiling as he carefully demonstrated the wand technique of some kind of spell. He looked up and caught her eye, and for the first time in years, Sofia saw something she never thought she would ever see again.

Twinkling green eyes.

* * *

_Days later_

"This is stupid," Harry grumbled. "Why am I doing it again?"

He and Gabrielle sat on the balcony of his room. An easel and palette were placed in front of Harry and Gabrielle held a lacquered black brush in his hands. Both individuals sat in front of the easel, Gabrielle taking position just over Harry's right shoulder.

"Painting is therapy, Harry. It'll do you some good to paint your demons." Gabrielle told him in a serious tone. "I can show you how to get your feelings on the canvas instead of keeping it bottled up. Seeing your emotions will help you understand and cope with them." She gave Harry a pixyish smile. "Trust me. You will feel better afterwards."

Harry turned and faced Gabrielle. He smiled sweetly and answered in a soft voice. "I wouldn't be here right now if I didn't trust you, Gabby." Sweet smile turning into a smirk, he added, "You've just never seen my artwork. Maybe you won't like me so much after you see what I do to your medium."

This time it was Gabrielle's turn to smile sweetly. "I've seen you the way you use magic Harry, and teach. You do yourself a disservice as an artist." She whispered tenderly.

Their eyes met and something crackled between them, arced like lightening. Something powerful, natural and inexplicable. "Show me" Harry whispered.

Gabrielle felt heat and her face flush but she nodded. She handed him the black handled brush. Their hands met for a second and Gabrielle's stomach tumbled a bit. Forcing her rebellious stomach back into quietude, Gabrielle began to tell Harry what to do. And if she did it in a slightly breathless voice, neither of them mentioned anything.

"Decide what you want to paint." She instructed patiently. "You can pick Luna if you want to. We're going to end up doing a number of different paintings."

Harry shook his head. "Not Luna. I want to do something else first and figure out what to do, so I can work on it alone." Harry was quiet for a minute, and then said, "Sirius. I want to paint Sirius."

Gabrielle nodded. She knew how much Harry had cared for his godfather and how much his premature death had hurt him.

"When you perform Occlumency, you take your thoughts and emotions and push them inside…" Gabrielle began.

Harry started. "You're an Occlumens?" he asked. Harry had only mastered the art of protecting his mind after intense tutelage from Albus Dumbledore himself. For Gabrielle to have acquired the skill at her age was nothing short of amazing.

"Occlumency is very like the method used to train young Veela to suppress our powers. If we don't learn to master our abilities little boys and dogs will follow us everywhere. And stop stalling." Gabrielle smiled. "As I was about to say, this is similar to Occlumency. You're going to focus on a memory, but instead of suppressing it you're going to push it out of yourself through the brush. I'll help you, now close your eyes." She instructed. Harry did so, and she smiled slightly as memories of a different lesson fell into her thoughts. This time though, she was the teacher. "Think about Sirius. Remember what he looked like, how he made you feel. Connect that to your magic. Let the magic guide your hand."

"This sounds like a familiar conversation." Harry joked.

"Shush," Gabrielle admonished gently. "You need to focus on the art."

"Fine." Harry closed his eyes and began to concentrate. Gabrielle was amazed that she could actually begin to feel Harry gather his power. She tapped her own power and reached out to touch the core of Harry's magic, felt where it linked with his emotions and pushed, gently guiding him.

"Tell me what you're feeling." Gabrielle ordered softly.

Harry began to speak as the brush began to move, almost on its own. The story of Sirius Black began to take shape in oil and grey.

* * *

_More time later_

"I'm going to get you," Gabrielle threatened.

She sat on Harry's couch with a stack of scrolls resting on her thighs. Her short robe had ridden up slightly, exposing pale, creamy, and perfect legs. She had become Harry's unofficial teacher's aid, helping him grade the papers of his younger years. She spent almost every evening with Harry, working on lesson plans, grading papers, painting, or just talking about things. It had been weeks since he had last taken a drink and she was bound and determined to watch over him until she was sure he was out of danger.

The reason why she was threatening him was that for the past three days Harry had been running his sixth and seventh years through an obstacle course of wands, charms, and conjured simulacrums of dangerous beasts. He crafted it on the Quiddich pitch overnight, demonstrating astounding transfiguration and charm skills. This day, Gabrielle had gotten soaked by a simulacrum of a dragon that blasted her with green goop. It was better than actual dragon's fire, she supposed, but hell to get out of her silver hair.

"The effect will wear off in a couple days, besides, next time you'll know to move faster." Harry chided. "I've been trying to teach all of you how to trust your instincts in a battle situation." He cocked his head from around the easel he was working on and smiled at the young veela. "You zigged when you should have zagged."

Gabrielle stuck out her tongue at him, then huffed "I'm still going to get you back."

The pair lapsed into companionable silence and Harry continued to paint while she looked over first year homework. Several minutes later she spoke up again.

"It's going to be Christmas in a few weeks and Molly is throwing her traditional family party. You should go." Gabrielle held her breath. This was going to be the next big challenge for Harry: Facing his family and friends after being gone for so long. He and Ron, in particular had not parted on good terms. He needed to face them and become friends again. He needed more connections than just her.

As much as she enjoyed her status as his confidant.

Harry stopped painting and silence filled the room. Gabrielle was getting ready to speak again when Harry answered her.

"I… I don't know… maybe." His voice was hesitant and Gabrielle was sensitive enough to his moods to realize that Harry was scared. Terrified of seeing and being rejected by his friends.

"They miss you, Harry." She answered his unspoken question tenderly. "They will be glad to see you."

"Maybe."

They entered companionable silence again. Harry continued to paint with single minded concentration. He had finally begun painting Luna after painting a number of scenes of darkness and evil. Sirius's death. The Pit. Bellatrix. The Siege of Hogwarts. The slaying of Voldemort. Harry had tapped into something primal, and like all things having to do with magic, once he devoted himself to learning it, he did so with phenomenal skill. The paintings were dark and powerful. They radiated naked emotion that would forever haunt Gabrielle. In particular, the painting of Voldemort, all red with swirls of animated shadow and splashes of emerald, troubled her dreams. Seeing his emotions scribed in oils, Gabrielle discovered a new respect for Harry. If they affected her that much just in painting form, she couldn't imagine what actual memories of the scenes would be like.

"I'm done."

Gabrielle looked up. _He was done? With Luna?_ She was amazed. He had been working on the painting for only a few days. He had spent nearly three times longer on each of the darker paintings he had been working on.

"Do you want to see?" Harry asked shyly.

Gabrielle nodded and pushed a few stray strands of green-streaked silver hair out of her eyes. She got up and carefully placed her papers on the coffee table and walked over to stand behind Harry. Tears welled in her eyes when she was what he had wrought.

Luna was sitting on a tree stump in the middle of the Forbidden Forest at night. Her robes were of the palest blue and silver, and her long willow wand rested across her knees. The moon overhead illuminated her large eyes and transformed them into pools of twilight. Her hair was wild and untamed, flowing down her back like an ashen waterfall. A small smile curved the corners of her mouth—as if she were privy to a joke not meant for mortal ears. Various forest creatures, including squirrels, sparrows, and a unicorn surrounded her. A small pug-nosed creature knelt at her feet and gazed up at the sitting witch adoringly. Everything was brushed with loving detail, as if Luna were only moments away from waking up. She looked like the avatar of a nature goddess being paid court by the creatures in her dominion. She was perfect. Beautiful. In truth, more beautiful than she had been in real life, but that fit. To Harry, Luna had always been the most beautiful woman in the room. It brought to mind everything that Luna represented to Gabrielle. The moon, serenity, beauty… love. Everything about the young woman that made her one of the most universally loved members of the order and the woman who caught the eye and love of the most eligible bachelor in the world.

Their fingers entwined and Gabrielle whispered, "She would love it, Harry. Absolutely love it."

* * *

Read and review please. 


	3. Chapter 3

The Art of Healing Part 3

By phoenixgod2000

* * *

_Christmas Eve_

Molly Weasley let out a sigh and stared out from her kitchen window. The Burrow was quiet. Too quiet. Despite the relative chaos, she fondly recalled the days when she still had seven children pounding their way through her house. Back then, she still felt needed. Even during the war, when the Burrow stood empty, she was around Order members, caring for the Headquarters and mothering the members who needed it, and who allowed it.

But now, it seemed that nobody needed it. All of her children had left the nest, and as yet none of them had begun making grandchildren for her to spoil. The loss of one son and a granddaughter during the war had proven almost too much for Molly to bear. Percy may have died while still estranged from his family, but the infamous Weasley stubbornness had allowed him to die a hero, single-handedly saving a dozen of his fellow Ministry employees in a devastating daylight raid on the Ministry in the early days of second war. Fortunately, her remaining children were doing well in their post war lives; Ginny was a reserve chaser with the Holyhead Harpies with very good odds of moving up to first string next season. She was also spending a lot of time with Neville Longbottom, and Molly's instincts told her that she would be planning a wedding soon. Ron divided his time between South America and London in his job of Chief of Security for the South American ambassador to the Ministry. The twins were off on another whirlwind world tour, no doubt living a life of debauchery paid for with galleons from their joke company and the reputation they accrued during the war. She tried to summon disapproval, but couldn't. She was far too glad they had survived. Charlie was back in Romania, working with dragons and dating the Durmstrang Care of Magic Creatures instructor. Bill and Fleur were about to ship the very first bottles of wine from their small vineyard—Egyptian Spice promised to be big success. She was thankful that Fleur had finally convinced her eldest son to settle down, and the two of them lived a life of ease and plenty at her family's villa in the French wine country. They had struggled long and hard to recover from the scars of the war, and to repair their relationship after Bill's mutilation and Fleur's miscarriage. She felt a momentary stab of grief when she thought of the child they had lost years prior… yet another sin to lay at Voldemort's feet. Another victim of his reign of terror.

She searched her mind, trying to recall if there was something that needed to be cleaned or mended. Things would be different if her Arthur had survived, but he was another casualty of the war, along with Percy and so many others.

Garden Gnomes! Her garden needed to be de-gnomed before the party. Happy that she finally had something to do, Molly grabbed her wand and walked outside into the morning sun.

* * *

An hour later, Molly was finishing up with the last of the gnomes when the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Something had tripped the outer wards. Frowning, Molly picked up her wand – which rested within easy reach at her feet – Molly straightened up. She carefully made her way around to the front of the house, a dozen spells on the tip of her lips.

War habits died hard.

Molly saw two figures near the inner perimeter of the property, approaching the Burrow at a leisurely stroll. She squinted, trying to identify them; her eyes were simply not what they used to be. The figures were still indistinct, but Molly could see that one of them was tall and female, and the other was only slightly taller. The feminine form moved with long smooth strides while the other person walked with shorter, more hesitant steps.

After the twosome moved a few more meters down the path, Molly was finally able to identify the woman as Gabrielle Delacour. Molly relaxed and smiled. She was such a good girl: Always the first to arrive for the party, always so considerate.

The man's form remained hidden. He wore muggle clothes and an open, hooded robe-coat. His hood was up and deep shadows hid his face.

"Gabrielle! It's so good to see you." Molly smiled and gave the girl a critical look. "You're still too skinny." she complained without malice before leaning forward and kissing the silver haired teen on the cheek. "Who's your friend, dear? Your current young beau?"

Gabrielle blushed and fidgeted. Molly smiled at the girl's nervousness.

"No, Mrs. Weasley. Just a stray you took in once."

The middle-aged redhead's heart skipped a beat. She recognized the voice instantly. A voice she hadn't heard in more than a year. She whispered only one word:

"Harry?"

Harry Potter pulled off the hood. Unshed tears welled at the corners of his emerald green eyes. He swallowed once, painfully.

"Hi, Mrs. Weasley," he choked out, his voice thick. "Is there room at your table for one more?"

Molly Weasley wrapped her surrogate son in a bone-crushing hug. "Always, Harry. Always."

She was still holding him when his chest began to shake with the force of his tears.

* * *

"Dinner went well, don't you think?"

Gabrielle and Molly stood in the Burrow's kitchen, cleaning the dishes while the rest of the house slept off the magnificent dinner Molly had fixed for them.

Molly nodded. "I was worried at first when Ron punched Harry," she smiled, "But when I saw his smile afterwards I knew they would be fine. I was worried for both of them after that terrible fight they had." She wiped a stray tear that trickled down her face. "Hermione would have straightened them out in no time…"

Gabrielle nodded and smiled, remembering the pushy brunette witch that had taken time from her extremely busy schedule to help her with her school work one horrible summer. In Hermione Granger's world, being a refugee after having your home destroyed by Death Eaters was no reason to fall behind in your studies. She stared out the window, watching the snow fall lightly to the ground. It was so peaceful here, she thought. She wouldn't mind a place like this someday. A quiet place, where she could raise a family and work on her art without constant interruption. Unlike her sister – who seemed to love the social circuit – Gabrielle preferred solitude, small gatherings of close friends rather than sterile society parties. To Gabrielle, a place like the Burrow was ideal.

"Gabrielle," said Molly, interrupting the young veela's thoughts, "There is something serious that I need to talk with you about. I've met your mother," she grimaced, "and I doubt she would ever have this conversation with you." The friction between the two very different mothers had provided a tremendous amount of amusement during Bill and Fleur's wedding.

"What about?" Gabrielle asked cautiously.

"Harry." The redhead answered bluntly. "I've seen the looks you're giving him. You have more than just friendly feelings for him, don't you?"

Gabrielle flushed crimson.

"I… we… he… I don't think he knows." She answered in a rush. "And I don't want him to. I want him to trust me. He needs to trust me, and he won't if he thinks I want something from him."

Molly patted her companionably on the shoulder. "I understand, dear. Albus was very dashing when I was at Hogwarts, and I nursed a crush on him for quite a number of years. Until I met Arthur, that is. You need to meet a young man your own age." Molly advised.

"It's not a crush." Gabrielle shot back.

"Of course it is, dear. Or did that one Christmas mean so much to you?" Molly asked in a slightly sarcastic tone.

Gabrielle snorted. "Is that all you think it is, Harry comforting me just that one time? It's not. It's more than that. He is more than that."

The silver haired teen was quiet for a few moments. Molly reached out and stroked her back while the girl gathered her thoughts and emotions.

"Do you remember when my sister was kidnapped?" Molly nodded. "I was there when they took her. I was in another room and it was only sloppiness that they didn't find me, too. My sister was seven months pregnant. She couldn't fight… not like normal. I could have… should have done something...anything. Saved her and my little niece somehow, but I didn't. I couldn't." Tears rolled down Gabrielle's face. "I froze up and did nothing while my sister screamed for help. I hid, shaking, praying they wouldn't find me, too. When the aurors came, I was in my room. I couldn't face any of them! I couldn't face you or Bill! I was a failure! I never wanted to show my face ever again. I stayed in my room and vowed to never leave again. Do you know who came and got me?"

"Gabrielle," Molly said in a soothing tone, "You couldn't have done anything. You were a child then."

"Harry did." Gabrielle continued, as though Molly hadn't even spoken. Her tone was flat and brittle. "He came up to my room and sat down with me. He didn't tell me it would be okay. He didn't tell me that I did all everything that I could or that I was too young to have done anything. He knew I wouldn't hear those things and that I wouldn't believe them if I heard them. He just sat with me and drew me close with one arm. I don't remember how long we stared at my bedroom wall without speaking, not looking at each other, not doing anything until… until I started crying." Gabrielle wiped at the crystalline droplets that trickled from the corners of her eyes. Clearly, the moment still had a tremendous power over her. "I wept and wailed; I beat his chest, and tore at my hair till my arms were burning and my scalp bled. I screamed into his shoulder until my throat was raw. When I was done, he looked at me with those eyes of his and I felt his hands close over mine. When I looked down, he had placed my hand around my wand. Holding my hands with his, he taught me to cast a stunner." Gabrielle smiled wistfully. "Not a stupefy, or one of the other lightweight stunning spells, but a real Auror-grade attack spell. He stayed with me until I could cast it perfectly. Afterwards, he told me it was because it everyone should be able to protect the ones they loved. "

She turned and faced Molly square in the eye. "I think, if it hadn't been for Harry, I would have died. I was destroyed by my sister's kidnapping; when I learned that she lost the baby after they tortured her, I would have killed myself. Harry did more than teach me a little about fighting. He made me believe that I could fight." The silver haired veela set her jaw and said the next words in a fierce whisper. "I love him. I want him, Molly, and I will fight you and every one of his demons to have him."

This time Molly was the silent one. She stared out the window and bit her lip pensively. Eventually she spoke. "If it were anyone other than Harry, I wouldn't approve. A student involved with a teacher is wrong. It's immoral, and a betrayal of the relationship."

Gabrielle began to protest but Molly cut her off.

"But it is Harry. And it's also you, and I know that no man – teacher or hero – could take advantage of you. You're too strong for that. I love Harry like a child of my own body, and I want to see him happy again, no matter what. But I also love you and Fleur like my own daughters, and I want to see you happy too." she cautioned. "You deserve to be seen for the beautiful and amazing person you are. You deserve better than to be second place in someone's heart. Not even Harry's."

* * *

Snow fell gently onto the ground, coating the earth and trees with a frosty blanket. The rise of the moon cast an eerie glow over the ground, transforming the Weasley property into a scene from the most magnificent of snow globes.

Ron Weasley sat on the long bench swing set out onto the porch of the Burrow. He sipped at a butterbeer and gently used his long legs to rock the swing back and forth. Harry sat next to him, drinking a cherry fizz. The two had come out to share a drink after dinner, but neither wanted to break the silence first.

"My Dad would have loved this Christmas." Ron's voice was low and sad and didn't disturb the people still sleeping off their Christmas meal. He looked out onto the snow covered night and continued. "Merlin, I wish he was here…"

"What do you miss the most?" Harry asked.

Ron smiled. "This. When my brothers graduated from Hogwarts, Dad would bring them out here, share a few drinks of fire whiskey and talk man-to-man with them. He brought all of them out here, even Fred and George when he saw that they weren't going to graduate. It was a rite of passage, you know, something that showed you that he thought you were a man now. I remember when Bill and Charlie came out here with my Dad; I thought it was the greatest thing ever. I couldn't wait for the day my father would call my name and bring me out here and we would talk. But it never happened…" Ron's voice trailed off. "Bill tried, took some time to take me out for a few firewiskeys and a talk, but it just wasn't the same. He wasn't Dad."

"I miss him too," Harry added softly. "He was always very kind to me. Especially after Sirius died." The Boy-Who-Killed-Voldemort smiled gently. "I remember never being more mortified in my life than in my sixth year he sat me down for the talk once he saw that Luna and I were serious."

"Yeah," Ron said ruefully, "he flubbed that one with me and Hermione too." Ron smiled at the memory. "Hermione wouldn't talk to me for a week afterwards."

"She was embarrassed?" Harry asked.

"No. She was mad at me because I made fun of her for taking notes while Dad was talking."

"You're kidding!"

"I wish. Had drawings too."

Harry laughed and Ron joined him. It began a chuckle, but soon devolved into a full-throated belly laugh that paralyzed the boys for several minutes. The laugh began to die down and Ron wiped at the tears that filled his eyes. "Oh, I needed that, mate." He said, a chuckle still filling his voice. The mirth left Ron's voice when a moment later he continued in a wistful tone. "I miss her so much sometimes."

"Do you still think about her?" Harry asked.

Ron snorted. "Do you still think about Luna?"

Harry quieted down. "Does it ever hurt less?"

Ron stared off into the distance, looking at something Harry could never see. "Yeah…" he said slowly, "You like to think it doesn't, like it'll hurt forever because that means you care, but it's not true. You get to a point where there days and then weeks where you don't think about them and when you do… it's kinda a dull ache, like a hole that never quite fills up." Ron looked over at Harry and the boy who lived saw hard-earned wisdom in his eyes. "It's good that it hurts less. Because if it didn't, we couldn't move on. And I think that's what they want for us most of all."

Harry grimaced. "Have you? Moved on?"

Ron smiled and all but the slightest hint of sadness left his voice. "Yeah. You'll meet her when she comes to meet Mum tomorrow. I think you'll like her, mate. A little wild but a good heart. Name's Itzel."

"That name sounds familiar," Harry mused.

"It should. Itzel is one of the biggest singers in both the muggle and magical worlds." Ron said proudly. "She's a Mayan Pureblood."

Harry snapped his fingers. "That's right! Isn't she like a metamorphmagus or something?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah, she uses it to not get recognized when she goes out in public." He grins, "Well, that and looking good in skimpy dresses. According to her it beats dieting."

Harry shook his head. "How did you ever manage that?"

Ron grinned. "After you left, everyone started focusing on me. Inviting me to parties, Ministry functions, things like that." He shook his head and grimaced. "I could only take so much. After Malfoy draped his arm around me at one party to get his face on the front page of the Prophet, I decided I needed a vacation. One as far away from Malfoy and the rest of his bloodsucking types as I could get. Rio seemed nice and it was a place 'Mione always said she wanted to go. So I kissed mum on the cheek one day and portkeyed there. No plan, no clothes, no nothing. I stayed on the beach and danced in the clubs and just… let myself go. I didn't even go into the Wizarding parts of Rio. I wanted some time and space for myself."

Harry grinned. "I can relate."

Ron returned the grin. "So one night I was walking down a street and I heard a scream. Those Gryffindor reflexes of mine kicked into high gear and I raced around the corner. This pretty muggle girl was being attacked by three guys with knives and guns."

Harry winced. "How long did they last against you?"

"'bout a minute or so. Next thing I knew I was buying her a drink and we were in my room. She saw the wand in my pants—other wand," he corrected grumpily when Harry snickered loudly, "and told me who she was." Ron smiled contentedly. "She hired me to be her bodyguard for her South American tour and I agreed. We've been together ever since."

"I'm happy for you, mate." Harry answered quietly.

Ron turned to face Harry and spoke in a quiet, serious tone. "When she gets here tomorrow, I'm going to ask her to marry me. I want you to be my best man."

Harry's chest tightened. This was more than he could have asked for. More than he deserved. His voice was hoarse and he blinked away tears as he spoke.

"It would be an honor to stand with you." Harry hesitated for a moment. "I'm sorry I haven't been here, Ron. For you. For Molly and everyone else. You deserved to have me here to help you with the rebuilding and I let you down."

Ron smiled. Tears shone in his eyes as well. "You don't have to apologize to me mate. I understand why you did it. Remember what I did to Snape after 'Mione died?"

"I remember."

It was impossible to forget. Ron did something that Harry himself had wanted to do for ages. After he and Harry returned to headquarters from their disastrous mission in France, Ron had torn through the house and pulled Snape out a meeting. Harry had never seen Ron angrier than at that moment. He hadn't even reached for his wand, preferring to fling the greasy potion master down the corridor and to beat him so soundly that he'd spent two weeks in the hospital wing of Hogwarts recovering. It had been Snape's intelligence that had sent them to Paris.

And Hermione to her death.

"It's funny." Ron said. "But I think Snape wanted me to beat him up. He never once went for his wand. Didn't try to apparate. He just… took it. I think that he needed to be hurt as much as I needed to hurt him."

"What's your point, Ron?" Harry asked wearily.

"We all deal with pain in our own way. And, yes, it hurt that you didn't think that you could rely on us, but you're back now and that's what's important. We need you, Harry." Ron answered back seriously. "Malfoy married Susan Bones and has been trading on his 'war reputation' to get on some important committees and the board of Governors for Hogwarts. Sue loves him, and can't see how badly he's using her. He hasn't done anything too bad yet, but once he does…"

Harry grimaced. Draco Malfoy had emerged a surprisingly effective soldier against Voldemort near the end of the war. Unfortunately, his turnabout hadn't been total. He was still the same arrogant pureblooded racist that he had always been; only having turned against his dark lord and father when Lucius had given Narcissa Malfoy over to Voldemort for a dark ritual to consume her soul and power. Draco – discovering something that turned even his stomach – joined the Aurors and led several daring raids against Death Eater locations. His good looks and compelling story allowed him to become something of a media darling, despite his rather late entry to the side of light. Basking in the limelight that Harry had always eschewed, Draco happily fulfilled the media's need for a handsome war hero. It didn't surprise Harry that Draco was trading on his reputation for political gain. And using Susan… it hurt Harry's heart to realize that one of his better friends from the Order and the DA was so blind to what Draco was. He vowed to talk to her as soon as he could.

He heard the door creak open behind him and he and Ron both turned slightly towards the sound. Gabrielle smiled slightly at both of them as she walked off the porch and disappeared into the wintry landscape.

"She loves you." Ron said as he trailed her form with her eyes. "She loves you and she is so scared to tell you that I don't know how she spends any time around you without cracking."

"How do you know that?"

Ron grinned. "Luna always said I had a touch of the sight and that I should trust my instincts. And right now they are all screaming that she wants you more than words can say."

"She's sixteen, Ron, and one of my students. What am I exactly supposed to do about her?" Harry asked in exasperation.

"Harry, you asked me earlier about moving on. It's not a sin to find love again. It's not a sin to want someone after Luna. She would be happy for you. Remember that Harry. When we find love again, the ones we miss are happy for us. That girl loves you. Not to mention that she's a stone fox." Ron grinned. "The question you need to ask yourself is whether you love her back."

Harry stared off into the wintry land and searched his soul for the answer. And when he really opened himself to his feelings, he wasn't surprised by what he found.

* * *

Gabrielle sat on the hard frozen stump that stood near the Weasley family pond. A thick layer of ice covered the water, and Gabby found herself envying its cold perfection. She wondered what it would be like to be like ice, to not having feelings, to not care what other people thought. She had put up a brave front for Molly, but she didn't really feel it. She knew that she could handle the baggage associated with being Harry Potter's lover at her young age: the looks, the envy, the stares and rumors. What she didn't think she could face was Harry himself. He was so vulnerable and still so chaotic, and he trusted her so much.

And he shouldn't.

She was keeping something from him. Something that she feared would break his heart. She had begged and pleaded for him to be honest with her, but she had not given him the same courtesy. She was hiding her terrible secret because she was afraid that he would never forgive her the knowledge she possessed.

She sat and contemplated the nature of ice until a wave of warmth washed over her, banishing the cold that had slowly seeped into her bones without her realizing it. "Hello Harry." She whispered softly without looking behind her.

The former Boy Who Lived sat down next to her after conjuring a stool with a casual wave of a tattooed arm. Gabrielle shook her head in amazement. He hadn't even bothered to draw his wand.

"How did you know it was me?" Harry asked softly as he looked out over the frozen pond.

Gabrielle glanced at him and flashed a quick smile. "No one makes me as warm as you do." She blushed when she realized how forward she sounded. "I mean… ahh… the warming charm seemed like yours." She finished lamely.

Harry smiled but didn't say anything.

"So… did you have a good talk with Ron?" the silver-haired teen asked.

"Why, did you think because he decked me the moment he saw me that we wouldn't be friends anymore?" Harry joked.

"The thought had crossed my mind. Though I should have realized that nobody could hit you without your leave." Gabrielle admitted.

"We both needed to clear the air, get past some old, bad words between us. Besides, I had it coming." Harry answered ruefully. "But to answer your question, yes, Ron and I are still best mates. He's even invited me to be his best man when he marries his girlfriend—if she accepts the proposal. Don't tell Molly," Harry warned when Gabrielle gave a girlish squeal at the mention of the word wedding, "Ron doesn't want her to find out yet." Gabrielle nodded quickly in agreement.

Harry shook his head. "They… Ron and Iztel… they give me hope." he said in amazement.

"What do you mean, hope?" Gabrielle asked.

Harry glanced quickly at Gabrielle before looking away. "That someday I could find love again, just like Ron has."

"Someday?"

Harry looked up at the stars and smiled. "Regardless of what the stories say about me, I am not the man of a thousand lovers. I've never been good with women. I dated Cho once and flubbed that up, had a crush on Tonks, I dated Ginny and Susan for about five minutes each before I realized that we were better friends than anything else. Then there was Luna."

"Do you ever think you could find the same thing again?"

"No." Harry answered quickly. "But something else… something just as good… I hope so." He glanced quickly at Gabrielle, the slightest hint of a blush on his cheeks.

Gabrielle drew in a deep breath took her chance, speaking from her heart. "Do you… could you ever find that with me?" she asked.

Harry looked down. "You're sixteen—

"I don't care. You're only twenty four, and that's not such a big difference considering how long we're both going to live." Gabrielle rushed out.

"Maybe, but you're also my student, and you're still underage…"

Harry's voice was quiet but Gabrielle clung to the note of uncertainty in his voice. "I'm won't be underage for much longer, and its not as though you've gone easy on me in class. How long did I have that stupid dwarven beard? It sounds like you're trying to convince yourself, instead of me."

Harry laughed and ran his hand down her cheek. "You only kept that beard because the oversized mustache kept getting in your mouth when you tried to cast the countercharm. Anyway, did you know how beautiful you looked – even with the beard? Do you know how beautiful and amazing you are?"

Gabrielle frowned and looked away. "Harry, I'm a quarter veela, people have been telling me that since before I could talk. I want to be more than just a pretty face to you. I hoped…"

"They don't mean it the way I do." Harry replied. "Other people… they think you are special because of how beautiful you are." He shook his head. "I see it the exact opposite. I think you are beautiful because of how special you are."

Gabrielle lost herself in the emerald depths of Harry's eyes as he continued to talk. She found herself listening more to the emotions behind his words than the words themselves. They carried her to a place of warmth and comfort that she had hardly allowed herself to imagine.

"Do you have any idea how rare you are Gabrielle?" Harry asked. "Do you realize how much more mature you are than other girls your age? How many people your age would have understood what was happening to me? How many girls would have had the patience to heal me like you have? You're part veela and one of the most stunningly beautiful women I have ever seen. You could take whatever you wanted from men and they would give it gladly. But instead you work so hard at being the best witch, the best artist, the best person that you can be." He shook his head. "And the way you dealt with me was… amazing. Who you are… you're a gift, Gabrielle. A gift to the world… a gift to me. One I don't think I deserve."

Gabrielle had long since closed her eyes. His warm hands trailed lines of fire on her face and his warm Harryish scent filled her sensitive nose. "What… what are you saying Harry?" she asked breathlessly.

"I think… you… and I, could..." Harry blushed for once.

Gabrielle opened her eyes and grinned playfully. "Wow, you really aren't good at this" she teased.

Harry leaned his head closer to his veela student. "No. But I am good at this." And he leaned in for a kiss.

Gabrielle realized what was about to happen, and pulled back.

"What?" Harry also pulled back, confused by the girls actions.

"I don't want to be a Band-Aid, Harry. I don't want to be how you forget Luna." She said seriously.

Harry nodded. He bent over and kissed her hand. "I swear to you, Gabrielle, right here and right now, you and I are alone. No ghosts."

Gabrielle nodded and their lips met in a gentle kiss beneath the falling snow.

* * *

_A few days later_

_Beauxbatons Academy of Sorcery_

The day dawned bright and beautiful. Tropical birds not native to France sang and skipped from tree to tree over the tree lined walkways of the academy. Harry stood on a small mound instructing a class outside on the proper role of Transfiguration in dueling. The scent of freshly cut grass filled the air, and for the first time in a very long time, Harry felt like he had finally stopped bleeding inside.

Oh, he still hurt. He still had scars from Luna and from the War, but he was finally healing. He smiled briefly at Gabrielle as he talked, and demonstrated a few motions with his wand. She sat in the grass in front of him, curled up around her scroll and quill and she returned his smile with a dazzling one of her own.

What had he ever done to deserve a second chance at love? What had he done to make this beautiful, amazing creature think he was worth her time? She could have had anybody; someone whole, someone unscarred, someone without the chains of a bloody past dragging behind him.

And yet she wanted him.

There were still problems between them. She was hiding something from him; something she thought would anger him. But for the life of Harry, he couldn't think of a single thing that that Gabrielle could tell him that would bother him as much as she seemed to think.

There was also the issue of their age difference, but that didn't bother Harry anymore. Gabrielle wouldn't be legal for a few more months, and Harry would need even longer than that before he got past the kissing and cuddling stage. Although Luna had died more than two years earlier, he had delayed his grieving because of the war and then because of his wandering. Only now was he really coming to terms with it. As for the eight year difference between the two of them—well, Harry knew that Veela lived a very long time as a result of their fairy blood and he, thanks to the fact he was a metamorphmagus and the rituals of transformation he had undergone, would live substantially longer than a normal wizard as well. In time, eight years would be a drop in the bucket between them.

As for the fact she was his student? It still bothered him, but he hadn't done anything too over the line and he wasn't altering her grades in any way. Gabrielle was a gifted a witch in her own right and she outpaced most of her classmates without any help from him.

Harry smiled again. The day could not be any more glorious.

* * *

_Several weeks later_

"You wanted to see me, Sofia?" Harry asked as he walked into the office of the Headmistress.

"Yes I did, Harry." The small statured half elven witch stood up and hugged Harry briefly. She sat down again and Harry joined her sitting on the other side of her desk.

She watched him carefully and spoke cautiously. "You have become a very different person since I hired you. You have the twinkle back, the children cannot stop saying enough good things about your class, and there is a bounce in your step I don't think I have ever seen."

Harry leaned back in his chair. "Things change. People heal."

Madame DuShae arched a single eyebrow. "Did a certain teenaged veela help with the healing?"

"You know that she did."

"What I know," She shot back reprovingly, "Is that you have been engaged in activities which go against everything you stand for as a teacher."

Harry stood up angrily. "Because I've stolen a few kisses with the only person who makes me happy?" Harry asked. "Do you think I'm changing her test scores? Do you really think so little of me?"

"No," she said in a quiet tone, "I think a great deal of you Harry, but do you realize the position you've put me in? I have an obligation to the parents of every student under my care and to the reputation of this institution…" steepling her fingers in front of her, she continued. "The magical world owes you a debt that we can never repay, and I consider you one of my dearest friends. But that does not change the fact that you are engaged in an emotional relationship with a student. I have to fire you."

As she spoke the words Harry sagged. He sat back down in his seat and smiled wanly at the sitting headmistress. "I know you do," was all he said. "Shall I have the house elves pack my room?"

"Because I trust you, and because you are the finest Defense instructor this school has ever seen, I will allow let you finish the school year, and I will not be pressing charges against you. But I am taking Gabrielle out of your class. I will finish her sixth year of Defense myself. However you chose to purse your relationship with Miss Delacour, you will do it on your own time and you will not go any farther than you already have. I am giving you a remarkable amount of faith, and I ask that you not let me down." She instructed sternly.

"That's very generous." Harry agreed "and probably more fair than I deserve."

"Yes, it is." Madame DuShae replied in a hard tone. Her eyes softened perceptibly when she said a moment later, "But that's me as your boss, Harry. As your friend, I am happy for you."

* * *

_One month later_

"You're going to love this." Harry assured Gabrielle.

"I'd better." She mock-threatened. "I feel ridiculous like this."

"We'll be able to spend the weekend here, away from prying eyes."

Gabrielle had a strip of peach silk wrapped around her eyes that prevented her from seeing what was going on. She had absolutely no idea where she was. The strip had been charmed to prevent her from slipping even the tiniest corner away from her eye.

She heard the creak of a door open and then the scent of… saltwater? Sand crunched beneath her feet as Harry took her hand and let her through the doorway. Soft music filled the air, exotic birds cawed their greeting, and the rays of a tropical sun warmed the exposed skin on her face. She reached upward and tugged at the knot that hid her eyes. When she saw where she was, she rubbed them again. She could scarcely believe it.

It was Harry's room… only not.

Through the power of his magic, Harry had transformed and expanded his room into a private beach. The room seemed four times larger than normal and had lost the walls which formerly subdivided it. The floor had been transformed into powdery white sand with a warm saltwater pool lapping at it's edges. Trees heavy with coconuts, papayas, and bananas formed a stand in the rear of the room. A crude hut stood directly in front.

"Harry, this… this is amazing." Gabrielle murmured.

It was more than amazing. A transfiguration on this level of any usable duration was unheard of. The dozen spells he must have used to alter this room should have left him lying in bed for a week. But there he was, as hale and hearty as ever, grinning childishly at Gabrielle.

And he had performed this miracle of transfiguration all for her.

"Do you like it?" He asked shyly. "I put it together the past few nights. The enchantment should last the whole weekend." He reached over and pulled her unresisting form towards him. "This means we get privacy this weekend."

"No more prying headmistresses?" Gabrielle laughed.

Gleefully she spun herself around on Harry's arm. He smoothly caught her and dipped. "She's just doing her job." He chided. "And she was right. What we are doing is inappropriate."

Gabrielle pulled away. Her eyes danced and she playfully slipped part of her robe over her flawless cream colored shoulder. She stepped away and with a tap of her wand transformed her light robes to a brief thong bikini designed to highlight the perfection of her body, as she sauntered towards the hut. Harry could only shake his head. Gabrielle might not want to be known as merely a pretty face, but neither was she oblivious of or unwilling to use her physical charms. She was, after all, a veela.

The young beauty paused and turned her head back towards Harry. Her face was alight with mischief and when she spoke her voice was husky with desire.

"I'm okay with inappropriate."

Harry decided he was, too.

_Sometime the next day_

Harry and Gabrielle lounged in a hammock that Gabrielle had conjured and tied between two trees. It was almost large enough for the two of them to fit together on it—as long as they didn't mind being practically on top of each other—which they didn't.

Gabrielle had one of her silken legs casually draped over Harry's body while the rest of her molded into his side. He idly played with a platinum strand of hair while the two lounged beneath the artificial sunlight.

"I haven't felt like this in a long time, Gabby. I wish… I wish I could express physically to you what I feel, but I can't. I'm not ready yet."

The beautiful young veela stretched languidly. She traced Harry's face with her gaze and brushed at a stray lock of hair, revealing his famous scar. "I'm not going anywhere." She whispered into his ear. "I can wait until you're ready."

"I don't deserve you." Harry stroked the side of her face with a finger and lightly placed a kiss at the nape of her neck. "There haven't been a lot of women I've trusted. Too many just want to say they gave a roll to someone famous, or they want to catch themselves pregnant to get at my money. But you… you I trust with my heart."

Gabrielle shifted, turning slightly away from Harry. He could feel her tense up. "What's wrong?" Harry asked. "Every time I tell you I trust you, you flinch a little. Why?"

Gabrielle rolled away from Harry and pushed herself into a sitting position. She summoned a thin robe and wrapped it around her body. "I've done something bad, Harry. Really bad."

Harry laughed from his position still on the hammock. "What could you have possibly done that was so terrible? You're perfect."

Gabrielle let out a mirthless laugh. It was dark and shaky, filled with barely restrained hysteria. "You don't know what I did. What I knew."

"You've listened to my problems for months Gabby, it's my turn now. Let me listen to yours." Harry said gently.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

* * *

"_You make a very nice rainbow, Gabrielle."_

_Luna's soft voice caused Gabrielle to whirl around in surprise. She had been so enraptured by the spell that she hadn't heard the young seer come up behind her. With a pang, she noticed Harry's face light up when he saw his girlfriend._

_Luna Lovegood had what Gabrielle's mother would call the elements of beauty, but not the execution. Wide luminescent eyes, long limbs, and a slender body that would make her the envy of many models were all present, but to Gabrielle it appeared that Luna simply didn't care what she looked like. She hid her attractive features beneath the bizzarest clothes Gabrielle had ever seen, and her dirty blond hair was encased in a net of twinkling lights in traditional Christmas colors. A red cloak trimmed in white fur partially hid a dress that looked like it was made from evergreen leaves. Tiny ornaments hung from her dress, giving her the appearance of walking Christmas tree._

"_Moonshine," Harry said excitedly, "I was just showing Gabby one of the more entertaining magics Dumbledore taught me."_

_He walked over to his girlfriend and kissed her on the cheek. She giggled slightly and pulled him closer for a second kiss. Gabrielle's heart sank as she saw the obvious love between the pair._

"_Harry, honey, Ron and Bill want you to show them how to use the dartboard Arthur found." She smiled. "But be careful. I think they may have drunk too much Yule mead. Their aim seems to be off." _

_Harry nodded and grinned. "Alright." He turned and dropped next to Gabrielle. "Are you going to be okay?" he asked the silver-haired first year._

_She nodded. "Thank you, Harry." She whispered in a tremulous voice._

_He patted her lightly on the shoulder and took off back towards the burrow._

_Leaving Luna alone with Gabrielle._

_The part veela girl watched as the young seer spun around in the light snowfall and let out a small silver laugh._

"_I love the snow," Luna gasped once she done with her slightly mad capering. "It's cold and frozen, and if you look very carefully you can see the white haired Snow Flurry while it eats wild mistletoe berries."_

"_I don't think I've ever heard of that creature." Gabrielle said hesitantly._

"_No matter." Luna waved off. "It was just something that my mother told me once." Gathering her robes Luna sat down on nearby frozen stump. She stared off into the frost rimmed lake. "I've always liked it here." She murmured._

"_Did you grow up near here?" Gabrielle asked._

"_Down the way." Luna said. "I grew up friends with Ginny." She smiled. "I had a terrible crush on Ronald for the longest time." Luna glanced down at the small first year. "Much like your crush on Harry."_

"_I don't… I mean… I think." Gabrielle stuttered out. Her face flushed and she turned around to avoid looking at Luna in the eyes._

_Luna gently turned the small girl around. "Do not worry," she crooned, "I'm not angry with you."_

_Gabrielle wrinkled her forehead. "Why not?"_

_Luna shrugged. "Harry is easy to love. Why should I be angry that you see it too?" She grinned at the young girl. "Besides, one day you'll get your chance."_

_Gabrielle opened her mouth to question but Luna pressed a finger to the young girl's lips. "Do you believe I am a seer?" She asked gently._

_Gabrielle nodded. "Of course. Everyone knows about Luna Lovegood, the Order of the Phoenix seer. My sister says that you are one of the most powerful members of the Order, even though you're so young."_

"_Your sister is very kind." Luna answered back with a smile. "A seer doesn't make prophecies, they see possibilities. They see ways of moving, of working in the weaves of destiny. I was always a seer, but I never knew it until I saw the threads that would come together at the Siege of Hogwarts. I've seen many things: Terrible things, beautiful things, things of no consequence, things of beauty that become things of horror, and the opposite."_

"_Does… it ever make you sad?" Gabrielle asked._

_The Ravenclaw brushed some strands out of Gabrielle's hair. "It used to." She admitted in a quiet tone. "But that was when I couldn't see far enough."_

"_Far enough?"_

"_Every terrible thing, all of them," Luna whispered, "has some good come from it. Sometimes that thing must come far into the future, but it always happens. Evil cannot win, because every dark thing has the seeds of the something good, something great, within it. I draw great comfort from that."_

"_I don't." Gabrielle shivered._

"_You are still very young." _

_Gabrielle Delacour had nothing to say in reply other than a soft "What does this have to do with Harry?"_

_Luna drew her wand and a blanket of warmth descended on both of them. "I see something coming. Something that I will not survive—or at least I am not likely to survive." The young woman shed a tear. "It is going to pain Harry so terribly. I fear for his soul." Luna knelt down and looked the young veela in the eye. "Promise me Gabrielle. Promise me that if something should happen to me you will watch over Harry for me."_

_Gabrielle's eyes grew huge. "But I…"_

"_You love him, and it will take someone who loves him to save him from himself." Luna said insistently. "Please."_

_Gabrielle nodded silently. She wanted to speak, but there was nothing to say.

* * *

_

Harry's face was blank. Gabrielle rolled away from him and stood up. "I wanted to tell you." She begged. "I wanted to tell you so much but I…"

"You knew."

Harry's voice was the coldest she had ever heard it. It froze her blood and its very tone seemed to act like a dementor against her. Its timber seemed to suck out every bit of warmth in her body. Even with the false sun shining overhead goosebumps popped against her skin.

This was the face he showed to his enemies. This was the face of the Assassin of Gryffindor, a face she had heard about but had never seen.

Harry stood up, and without visible movement transfigured his trunks into jeans and a tee-shirt. "You knew that Luna was going to die and you didn't tell anyone! You didn't tell me?"

"I was eleven years old and overwhelmed, Harry! I didn't know how to deal with what she told me. What was I supposed to do?"

"Why didn't you tell me before now?" Harry said angrily. "Why didn't you tell me before I…"

"I… what, Harry?" Gabrielle demanded. "Before what?"

"Before I loved you." Harry finished quietly.

"I was ashamed." She said quietly. "How do you even start that conversation? Hi Harry, The love of your life told me that she was going to die and wanted me to look after you. Do you have a problem with that?"

"I could have saved her!" Harry shouted.

In the blink of an eye the world that Harry had transfigured shattered and then fused itself back together again to the way it normally appeared. He walked towards the door and it swung open without him touching it. He paused in the doorway and spoke without turning around.

"I'm going out. Don't be here when I get back." He said flatly.

A second later he was gone.

* * *

_The Ministry of Magic_

_London_

A scream split the air and a cinnamon-haired young woman snapped her neck up and clutched her wand reflexively. With all the grace of a beached whale, Susan Amelia Malfoy heaved herself to her feet and made for the door of her office.

It was times like these that Susan regretted getting pregnant. Her feet were swollen, her breasts hurt, and her back ached. She did not currently possess the svelte, athletic body that helped make her one of the more deadly aurors during the war with Voldemort. Due in less than two weeks, she was deskbound as an assistant for her aunt, the current Minister of Magic.

Still, there was nothing wrong with her magic and her instincts dictated that she confront whatever made the person in the office outside scream. She slid the door open and peeked around the corner.

The office was in an uproar.

Nobody was working: at least two people had dumped parchment and ink all over their desk and floor, and people were looking over each other's walled cubical and talking excitedly. The secretary at the front of the office was firing rapid questions at a green-eyed, messy-haired young man who struggled vainly to fit a word in edgewise.

"Harry!" Susan shouted.

The pregnant young woman flung her door the rest of the way open and carefully made her way down an aisle that had clearly not been designed with very pregnant woman in mind. She reddened slightly as every eye in the room turned towards her.

"Susan." Harry said in relief. "It's good to see you. You look beautiful." he finished, eyeing her protruding belly.

"I look fat," she answered back ruefully.

"Beautiful." Harry said again. Susan smiled. She could hear the sincerity in his voice, and it warmed her heart like nothing else—other than her husband. She peered deeply at Harry, not having seen him in almost two years. She could see the tightness around his mouth, and a blank look that she knew he wore only when hiding tremendous pain.

"Sue, you never said that you knew Harry Potter!" The young secretary, Samantha Rollins, breathed in an impressed tone. She was fresh from Hogwarts and had never known the legendary Boy Who Lived except as a remote figure from her first year. The idea that her boss knew the great hero clearly impressed her.

Harry glanced down at the secretary. "Susan is one of my best friends. She's saved me loads of times."

Susan laced her arm through Harry's. "I think you pulled my bacon out of the fire a few more times than the reverse, Harry." She frowned prettily. "What are you even doing here? Last the Ministry heard, you had disappeared in Africa looking for Lestrange—and that was eighteen months ago."

"I've been around." Harry said evasively. "That's why I came. I wanted to see you and catch up."

"And check to see how Draco is treating me." Susan said knowingly.

"Ron may have mentioned something about Draco." Harry said blandly, "But I'm here to see you, not him."

"Well, you can come with me to lunch, but I'm meeting Draco," Susan warned. "So you had better be on your best behavior" she scolded gently.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes ma'am. No transfiguring your boyfriend, got it."

Susan shook her head and started leading him out of the office when Samantha called back hesitantly.

"Mr. Potter… I… uhhh… .my sister is a big fan of yours. Could you possibly…" and she meekly held out a parchment.

Harry smiled pleasantly although Susan could tell that he was annoyed by the entreaty. "Sure. What's her name?"

"Rose."

He took the parchment and flattened it on the table. He tapped the paper sharply and silver ink bled from the parchment and began to run and twist. Susan watched in amazement as the silver ink took the shape of a stem and rosebud with the words "To Rose, my number one fan – believe and be brave. Sincerely Harry Potter" etched beneath drawing.

"That's beautiful. Thank you Mister Potter." Samantha whispered.

Susan stood on her toes and whispered into Harry's ear, "You'll never get rid of your fangirls if you keep pulling stunts like that."

* * *

The Fey Glen was reportedly the best Wizarding restaurant in all of Great Britain, and one of the finest in the western world. It was out in the open, located in a mystical glade shielded with a variety of wards and enchantments that draped it in perpetual twilight and gentle warmth, regardless of the time or temperature of the world outside. Glowing balls of fairy light danced and spun in the air, casting romantic light and shadows through every corner of open air restaurant. The food was amazingly light, airy confections of fruit and greens—imitation of the foods eaten in seelie courts of the fey—that was prepared by the finest chefs in the world. The waiters and waitresses were all of extraordinary beauty, and virtually all of them had some sort of nonhuman ancestry to them which lent to an exotic cast to their beauty. Susan and Draco Malfoy had a table for two, and normally the always-booked restaurant did not allow additions.

Harry Potter proved an exception to that rule as well.

He hadn't spent any time around Draco Malfoy in years, and he found himself eyeing his old school enemy looking for any evidence that he was mistreating his friend in any way.

Draco Malfoy looked more like his father than the last time Harry saw him. He wore his ash-blond hair long enough to hang past his collar. He was tall and lean, with broad shoulders and a trim waist—a physique he owed solely to genetics because Malfoys never stooped to anything as common as physical labor. His cold grey eyes only seemed warm when he was looking at Susan—he eyed Harry with the same wary air that he always had. He fed his young wife from his own plate, and Harry noticed how gentle and kind he was when he addressed her. Conversation at the table was polite, bland even, as Harry and Draco spoke hardly three words to each other.

Susan eventually pushed her seat away from the table, and the men rose from their seats. "I have to use the little girl's room, boys; the joys of pregnancy are calling," she added with a rueful grin. "Please try not to kill each other while I'm gone."

The two old enemies stared silently at the other, the gulf of their history and animosity stretching between them.

Draco broke the silence first. "I never got a chance to say that I was sorry to hear about Lovegood, Potter. She was from an old, pure family and the line didn't deserve to end with her the way it did." He said sincerely.

Harry leaned back. "That means almost nothing coming from a person with the mark you keep hidden on your arm." He retorted.

"I made a mistake." Draco said tightly. "I was sixteen and thought I knew all there was to know. I learned differently." His jaw throbbed with tightly repressed emotion when he spoke.

Harry leaned forward. "That's right." He said. "You learned that when your father murdered your mother."

"My mother wasn't murdered Potter." Draco replied tightly. "She was sacrificed so my father could absorb her magical core. Her essence… her soul… has been totally destroyed. There is nothing left of her except for me, and the child growing within my wife… and both are tainted by my father's essence." Draco snorted bitterly. "I forget Potter, are you going to get to see your family in the afterlife? Because if you can, you are a step above me."

"Don't expect me to feel sorry for you because of what your father did." Harry responded. A second later he frowned and let out a sigh. "Look, I didn't know your mother, but nobody deserves what happened to her. I'm sorry for your loss."

The blond wizard let out a sigh and waved off the apology. "I know what you think of me, and I can only guess what Weasley has said about me, but I swear to you Potter, my only priority in my life is my wife and child—everything I do, I do to make the world a better place for them."

"Ron has said one or two things about you—mostly about you getting on the Board of Governors for Hogwarts. He was… concerned." Harry answered truthfully. "And truth be told, so am I. I believe that you want the best for your family, but you and I have very different ideas on what that better world should be like."

Draco snorted. "That's why you're here, isn't it? You wanted to check up on me to make sure that I'm not doing anything to harm your precious school. To make sure that I'm not allowing anything naughty to happen to all the wide eyed baby muggleborns going there right now."

"That school was the only home I've ever known, and more than one of our classmates bled and died to keep it from Voldemort—Pureblood and muggleborn alike. But you're wrong, Malfoy. That's not why I'm here, though. I'm here because I needed to get away for the weekend, and I wanted to check on one of my dearest friends to make sure that the man she married—the man who was so very far beneath her—wasn't treating her shabbily." Harry said intensely, eyes flashing with barely suppressed anger.

"That, Potter, is one thing we can both agree on. Susan deserves better than me, and I will work until my dying day to be the man she sees in me—even when I don't see it myself."

* * *

_Sometime later_

_An abandoned beach_

Harry and Susan walked along the beach in silence. The sounds of water lapping at the edges of the island, sand crunching beneath their feet, and night birds singing all worked together to fill the silence with nature's choir. Despite the lateness of the evening, the air was warm, hot even. It was a beautiful, tropical night.

"Where are we, anyway?" Susan asked as she walked with Harry.

The other wizard shrugged. "Not really sure. I pictured a place I wanted to go to in my mind, and my magic just took us there. Probably somewhere on the other side of the world near the equator. I don't really know how it works."

Susan shook her head in amusement. "Only you, Harry, would take a thousand years of accepted understanding of Apparation and turn it on its head, not to mention doing it without knowing what the hell you're doing."

She looked out at the endless ocean and asked in a soft tone, "Why are you here, Harry. I haven't seen you in years and then all of a sudden you're back. No word on what you've been doing, except for a few vague hints about teaching and traveling."

Harry rubbed his face. "I needed to talk—with a woman, and Ginny is out of the question. Our breakup was just too awkward to ask her what I need to."

A smile flickered across her face. "And ours wasn't?"

"You know what I mean, Sue." Harry rebuked softly.

The blond girl nodded. "I do. Ask, Harry. Whatever you need."

So Harry talked.

He poured out his heart about Luna, Bellatrix, teaching at Beauxbatons, and Gabrielle. Especially Gabrielle. He spoke endlessly about her art, her talent with a wand, her beauty, her voice. Her patience with him, the way she dealt with him. His feeling of betrayal when she revealed that she knew about Luna's death.

When he was done, Susan was silent for a long time. They continued to walk down the beach wordlessly as one of his most valued friends absorbed everything. Harry looked at her and bit his lip. What was she waiting for? He needed her to speak—to say anything even, if it was to tell him that he was being a fool.

"Harry, whatever I tell you, you have to promise not to get mad at me." Susan said eventually in a gentle tone.

Harry grimaced. "Is my temper so bad that you have to worry about that?"

"How did you treat Gabby when you didn't hear something that you liked?" Susan pointed out. "Your temper is legendary, Harry. Against your enemies and your friends."

"Fine. I give you my word to not get angry with you." Harry answered in a huff—hurt that one of his friends could ever think so little of him.

Susan put a comforting hand on his arm. "Harry, let me ask you something. Deep in your heart of hearts, who are you really angry with?"

Harry was confused at the question. "I already told you. I'm angry at Gabrielle because she should have told me about Luna."

"No, you aren't." Susan disagreed. "You aren't angry at Gabrielle at all. You lashed out at that poor girl because she was convenient. Because she was there."

"Fine. Then who am I angry at?"

Susan frowned prettily. "I hate to say this Harry, but Luna. You are angry with Luna."

Harry blinked. Luna? But she was… Luna. He could never be angry with her. She had been his everything. They never fought, unlike the gladiatorial arena that had been the Ron/Hermione relationship.

"Harry… Luna wasn't perfect. I know you thought she was, and she was good for you. I saw it, Ginny saw it, everyone who knew the two of you saw it. But you have a tendency to see the people you love as perfect—all good, and people you hate as all bad. That is why you still don't trust Draco—don't think I don't know that you were checking up on me." She smiled. "It was sweet but unnecessary. I see my husband's strengths and I see his flaws. That was something that you never could do. You've always been so blinded by love that you can never see that flaws in the other person."

Harry backpedaled. "But Luna was brave, smart, beautiful, and wise." He protested.

"Yes, she was." Susan said in agreement. "But Luna was also given to believing stupidly impossible things. It was part of her charm, but it was also a flaw, Harry. She was odd, closed off to most people, and more importantly she was a fatalist. I think it was part of her talent. If she saw something was likely to happen she would almost never try and change it. She would just accept its inevitability. What she did to Gabrielle was wrong Harry. She put the onus of taking care of you on an eleven year old girl. That wasn't fair to her at all. She did that because a part of her couldn't see a way to surviving the war. She wasn't willing to fight. For herself or you. Not the way you were for her."

"No…" Harry tried to protest, but Susan gently cut him off.

"Harry, how do think that an 11 year-old girl was supposed to tell Harry Potter that his girlfriend was going to die in three years time? You were wonderful with Gabby, but what would you have done differently if she had told you? Would you have even taken her seriously? And do you really think that she should have told you in the first hours of you drying out from your firewhisky addiction? What would you have done?"

_Crawled back into the bottle and never come out _Harry realized belatedly. He felt like he had been punched in the stomach. Harry wanted to protest what Susan was saying but he couldn't. The words wouldn't come because he knew that she was right. About everything. She had Luna pegged. About both her good and bad qualities. She had him pegged as well. His temper, his blindness, they were all things he knew about himself that he tried to avoid thinking about. Suddenly he was struck with the sinking feeling that he had badly mistreated Gabrielle.

God! Would she ever take him back? Speak to him even?

"Apologize to her, Harry." Susan ordered kindly.

"Would that be enough?" Harry said bitterly. "You don't know the things I said to her."

"Do what every other man does, Harry. Apologize. Give flowers. Try to be a better man tomorrow."

Harry nodded but wondered if that would be enough. If anything he could do would be enough.

* * *

_Beauxbatons School of Sorcery_

Harry stood outside his door for at least ten minutes, a bouquet of roses clutched in his hands, before he decided to open it. He had just come from Gabrielle's dorm room, and her roommates had informed him that they hadn't seen her since the beginning of the weekend. He had decided to try his room next… maybe she would be there, waiting for him. Hopefully she wouldn't be so angry that he couldn't get her to listen to him, and beg for forgiveness. He took a deep breath, plastered a smile on his face and opened the door.

Straight into hell.

His room was a mess. The furniture was destroyed. Dishes were shattered. Paintings had been blasted into fragments. Harry's first thought was the Gabrielle had lost her temper with him and taken it out on his things. Something he deserved, he mused ruefully to himself. Still, old habits died hard and he shifted his flowers to his other hand and drew his wand. A powerful shield spell on his lips he made his way slowly through the remnants of his apartment.

His theory of a temperamental veela flew out the window when he walked into his bedroom.

The first thing he noticed was that it was untouched. Pristine even. Everything was exactly where it should be. Everything but the message carved into his vanity mirror.

_I still haven't given up Harry. You will be mine. I say we settle things once and for all. Find me and we three can our little menage a trois. I promise not to hurt your little croissant until you get here, Harry. You have my witches Oath._

_Your Bell_

Harry's wand fell from nerveless fingers and clattered unnoticed to the floor. All he could hear were his own words echoing cruelly in his soul.

_Don't be here when I get back

* * *

_

The next part of the story ends most of the mushiness and Harry goes into Action Jackson mode. I've talked up his legend throughout this fic. Now can I write action well enough to show just how justifiable that reputation is?

Stay tuned to this veela channel.


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